The Game
by Armadilloi
Summary: This is for all you out there who asked for it. Read it before the 28th. He's still adamant that it goes away. Sarah/Chuck after a rollercoaster ride through Hell itself. Disturbing images but then life is disturbing. DCHAWK enjoy.
1. Prologue

TheGameprologue

Prologue

_**I got caught up in all there was to offer**_ "Fallen" – Sarah McLachlan

**Castle**

"Chuck, if Casey even suspected that I had feelings for you I'd be gone before you could think to protest. He has already talked to me about my 'unprofessional levels of concern' for you. I like you. We're friends. I know the cover thing is difficult, but I'm trained to show emotions without feeling them. Understand?"

"But Sarah, you do have feelings for me. I know it. Why do you keep denying it?" He cringed inwardly. He sounded whiney even to him.

"I don't. We work together and we experience danger together. Don't mistake the emotions you 'think' you see in me for the 'feelings' you go on and on about. I like you Chuck and if I were a normal girl and I met you at a party or in a coffee shop, it might have been different but I'm not a normal girl. I'm an operative. A spy. And spies have rules, rules that keep us alive. Rule #1 is 'No Emotional Entanglements'."

"Fine. I understand. But Sarah…?"

"I don't want to talk about this again, Chuck. I follow rules. You don't. If you get your feelings hurt it's your own damned fault."

She got up and left the table and walked up to the Orange Orange. She wouldn't let him see how badly she wanted to tell him, show him, how she really felt. She wiped a tear from her eye and then went to fix her makeup. She was a spy and she followed the rules, especially Rule #1. She'd learned to follow that rule the hard way after being with Bryce Larkin. And it had been a painful lesson.

**Castle  
****Two Days Later**

"I see you finally had to lower the boom on the moron. It was long overdue, Walker. Just don't drive him into a total funk, OK? I have to listen to his sniveling and sniffling over his girly feelings for at least two hours every night and it's boring and disgusting. Now, Beckman wants a private conference with you. All she'd tell me is that she and Graham need your input on something you did in Chechnya."

"Humph. Graham probably wants to insert more teams into the country to try and set up monitoring stations on the smuggler routes. I ran teams that interdicted the gun runners but that was 4 years ago."

"The rebels are dickering with the Ukraine to purchase some tactical nukes the Soviets 'forgot' to take home with them. Sounds like a great opportunity to recover them and deny the rebels WMDs." Casey had dealt with the problem while in Russia. No one knew how many 'lost' nukes there were or where they were stored. It was something he'd been unable to find out before being pulled off for this job in Burbank.

Later that same day Sarah called Chuck and asked him to come over to her hotel room. She had something to discuss with him and wanted to do it where 'prying eyes and ears' couldn't record it.

* * *

**Sarah's Hotel Room**

Chuck knocked at the door, anxious, curious and hopeful. Maybe, just maybe, she'd given their discussion in the Castle some more thought and realized her feelings for him were real. With a hopeful smile he raised his hand to knock and she opened the door and asked him to come in.

The room looked different. None of her 'personal stuff' was in evidence. The picture of them that she kept on the bureau was gone as were all her small things that she'd made part of her life.

"Chuck, Director Graham has reassigned me to an incredibly important task force that is searching for lost nukes. Chuck, I'm going to be the Senior Agent in Charge. It's an opportunity to excel and to really serve my country and I can't pass it up. I'm leaving tonight and I wanted to say goodbye and return this."

She handed him his mother's charm bracelet.

"Sarah, I gave you this because…"

"Shhh. It was a wonderful addition to the cover and I appreciated your thoughts behind it but Chuck…there was never anything on my part. No feelings, no emotions. I'm sorry but I can't keep it. It's something you should give to the woman you want to marry."

He took it from her as if it were something unclean.

"I did. I did give it to that woman." He needed to get out of there before he lost it. He didn't want her last impression of him to be of a grown man crying for a lost love he never had.

He reached out and caressed her cheek and turned and left.

She followed him out the door an hour later. It had taken her that long to recover from what she'd done. And what he'd unwittingly done to her.

* * *

**Buy More  
****Next Day**

Morgan Grimes was not totally oblivious to the world around him. Something had happened to his best friend and sometimes mentor, Chuck.

Something very bad.

He walked up to the Nerd Herder customer service desk and stood directly in front of his friend who didn't even see him. What ever he was staring at was in his mind, not across the parking lot from the Orange Orange where his hot blonde girlfr – oh, no, not that!

"Chuck, buddy, talk to me. It's obvious something is wrong. Woman trouble? Maybe I can help. I can listen, Chuck. Man, the last time you looked like that was when you came back from Stanford after Jill dumped you. Is it Sarah? Something happen between you two…again?"

"She's gone, Morgan, back to DC. She got a hot job offer she couldn't turn down. She's gone and she's never coming back. It's over and I just need some time to…adjust. Yeah, adjust. So thanks, Morg, but there's absolutely nothing you or anyone can do. I just need to get my head out of my ass and adjust to the new situation." That was exactly what Casey had said to him that morning.

**Earlier in the Castle**

"Bartowski, Walker's an agent, one of the best. The country needed her someplace else, needed her skill set. She's gone and she's not coming back so get your head out of your ass and adjust to the new situation. You're getting a new handler. Try not to fall for this one. She'll be on station and working in the Orange Orange so maybe the cover won't be so difficult to adjust to. But you have to adjust, understand?"

"Yeah, I get it. I'll adjust. It's not something I'm totally unfamiliar with, Casey. But I want something in return. Lincoln freed the slaves. I want paid, understand? I want the intersect to be a full time job not something that intrudes on my real life and gets in the way. That's the first adjustment I want made. If I'm going to be the intersect then it's all I want to do. I need to focus on using it for maximum utility."

"The Buy More is your cover, Chuck. It's not going to happen. You need a 'civilian' job."

"No. I want paid to be the intersect. I'm not a mercenary but I didn't ask for this shit and by God if the government is going to use me to store data they can damn well pay the landlord rent. Now, talk to the Powers That Be and tell them I'm adjusting and this is step one."

Casey blinked. The moron had a point. He could think of several intersect-related tasks that would benefit the team and the Project immensely. He'd make Chuck's case when he spoke with the Directors again. He'd sell it and maybe then Bartowski would focus on something other than his girly moments and he could get a decent night's sleep.

**Buy More  
One week later**

Chuck was handling a customer at the Herder desk when he saw Casey signal him and hold up his cell phone. Chuck finished up the adjustments to the woman's iPad and patiently explained the new apps he'd loaded for her. He processed her credit card and then checked his phone.

The text message read 'CASTLE ASAP BECKMAN'.

He got Lester to cover for him and walked over to the Orange Orange. It was closed but he used a key and then entered the Castle. Casey had told him that his new handler would be on-station later in the week and he wondered if this was regarding her.

He walked down into the Castle and entered the conference room. Casey was standing almost at attention talking to General Beckman. The woman scared the crap out of Chuck and he viewed today's meeting with a great deal of…fear.

"Ah, Mr. Bartowski, it's about time. Major Casey has advanced your 'agenda' for new intersect duties and I'm in complete agreement with you. Turn in your notice to the Buy More. Major Casey will go over the necessary paperwork that will arrive later this week. There are conditions, however, that must be met before you take on your new duties."

"Yes, ma'am. I'll explain them after the conference. No need to waste your time, General." Casey's comment irritated Chuck for no reason. Just Casey being Casey.

"Fine. Make sure he understands the financial arrangements, the wardrobe and travel requirements as well as the need to relocate to a secure and suitable residence we will provide."

"Yes, ma'am. It will be handled. Anything else, ma'am?" Chuck swore he could hear the sounds of Casey's lips sucking on the General's ass. He could be so fawning over people who outranked him that it was disgusting. Kissing her ass was not going to get Casey out of Burbank. He was stuck here just like he was.

"Yes. Mr. Bartowski, I applaud your patriotism. Welcome to the ranks of the National Security Agency. You have an important role to play and we expect and will accept nothing but excellence." She disconnected before he could anything in response.

"Casey, thank you. Now, what conditions need to be met before I 'take on my new duties'?"

"Well, Chuck, you're going back to school. But first you need to go shopping. Those Buy More nerd clothes will not get it in the NSA and the less said about your 'personal wardrobe' the better. Then you will move into your new fully furnished condo in Venice. You'll be working out of NSA-LA and I'll be right there with you. I quit the Buy More this morning. Go easy on Big Mike. Losing you and his top salesman in the same day might give him a coronary."

"Wait a minute. In Venice? What…"

"Conditions, Chuck. Considering how much money you'll be making, the General figured you could afford the new lifestyle so the Condo is it. The 'paid-for-by-the-NSA' Condo, by the way. Totally secure and no bugs, Chuck. None at all unless you put them in. I don't think your new girlfriend would appreciate them anyway. And it's part of your new cover that you'll have to learn to live with." And live with her. Casey couldn't wait until Bartowski realized his 'cover girlfriend/handler' was a live-in. And the Condo only had one bedroom. _Oops, 'forgot' to cover that in his mini-brief'._

**Casa Bartowski**

"Oh, Chuck, I'm so proud of you! Getting a high-tech job in this economy and then moving out…I mean, you don't have to move, Chuck, we love having you here."

"Nope. The commute would kill me. I got a deal on a sublet in Venice. The guy I'm replacing was transferred to London and I just picked up his lease. Can't beat the price and the salary will more than cover all my first-time expenses. Besides, it's hard telling a girl you want to…well, that you live with your sister and her boyfriend. Really destroys the image, y'know?"

"So, when can we see this bachelor pad, dude? Awesome move, by the way."

"Not for 2 months. I have to go to Maryland for induction and training and some tech schools. I should be finished in 2 months. Sounds pretty simple to me."

**The Condo  
****Venice, CA**

Chuck needed Casey's help carrying all the crap he'd had to buy on the list Casey had given him. Tuxedos, shoes, shirts, pants, casual clothes, ties, the whole wardrobe from feet to neck.

"Thanks, Dad, for setting me up for school. When do I meet my new handler?"

_When Casey had paid for it all, the somewhat effeminate young clerk had looked them over and commented that the bar he frequented could use some new blood. Chuck overheard and went to the young man's rescue when it dawned on Casey what he was implying. Casey was drawing back his fist in preparation of smashing in the other's nose, cheeks and teeth when Chuck interrupted._

"_Thanks, Dad. I appreciate the new wardrobe. Um, I mean step-dad. And you married such an older woman, too."_

_The color came back to the young man's face but Casey paled at the image of him being Chuck's 'step-dad'. He growled and that sent the young man off in search of softer prey._

"_Keep it up, Bartowski, and I'll sic 'Mom' on you." He meant General Beckman and then Chuck commented and froze the NSA officer in place. "I always knew you had the hots for Diane. Thanks for the image. I'll probably have dreams of…never mind."_

"Your new handler will be introduced to you at the school. The General felt that sharing the experience might lessen any…problems."

"What if I don't like her or she doesn't like me?"

"Tough. Just think of 7th grade and you'll do fine. Try to pass the school, Chuck. It's really not that hard. And try to suppress any girly screams. It demeans the image of an NSA agent." He handed Chuck a first-class ticket to DC and an itinerary covering transportation and lodging at the school and then slapped him on the back.

"Just think, the next time I see you, you'll be a man and you'll also have to call me Sir." Secretly Casey feared that the 'school' would break his young asset and make things worse but the General had been adamant. "He either passes the school or he's no agent. Now, I've said 'yes' to the request, Major, don't press your luck."


	2. School Daze

TheGame

School Daze

**_We all begin with good intent  
_**"Fallen" – Sarah McLachlan

Chuck flew into BWI airport outside Baltimore and followed his instructions. One phone call to a toll-free number and he was told to wait outside baggage claim and he would be 'met'. Twenty minutes later a black TR-7 pulled up and a tall woman with honey brown hair and the blackest eyes Chuck had ever seen got out and walked over to him. Her jeans and sweatshirt and cowboy boots all screamed "Texas!" at him.

"Are you Charles, Charles Bartowski?" She had a husky voice and she moved like a dancer.

"Yes. Muldoon."

"Oh, crap, yeah, um, what was it? Uh, ah, Clancy. Yeah, Clancy. Sorry about that. Not used to this cloak and dagger crap."

Chuck smiled and picked up his single bag and then walked around to the trunk, looking at her expectantly. And waited. When she got in the car and ignored him and walked over and politely asked her for the keys or to pop the trunk. He had no idea if it would open remotely.

"Oh, crap, yeah, um, here're the keys. Sorry about that." Chuck sighed and took the proffered keys and put his bag in the trunk and then squeezed and folded his long legs into the car and handed her the keys. She dropped the keys and they bumped heads, hard, when they both bent to retrieve them.

"Oh, crap. Sorry about that." Chuck rubbed his forehead and smiled. "No problem but we really need to get going. Is this your car?"

"Yeah. Um, I'm Miranda Dawson. I prefer Mira but answer to almost anything. And yes, I'm nervous and yes, I'm a forgetful klutz but I wanted to make a good first impression and I see I fell well short of the mark. Hey! Are you sick or something? You don't get car sick, do ya?"

He flashed on Miranda Dawson, NSA Agent-in-Training, 26, US Army, 1st Lieutenant, Signal Corps, and designated partner for Project Intersect host. Cleared for intersect, all levels. Graduate Texas A&M, EE, Physics. He would not have recognized her from her file picture. It made her look…hard and mannish.

"No, I don't get car sick. That's called a flash. So, what do you know about me, Miranda Dawson? Since we're going to be partners." He already liked her voice and her Texas accent, strong and yet soothing at the same time.

"Charles Bartowski, 28, Stanford EE, we have that in common by the way, single, um, yeah, got intersected by email from CIA agent named Larkin. The same guy who got you bounced out of Stanford on a bogus cheating rap. Works with John Casey, Major, USAF. Field experience and bad attitude. Did I miss anything?"

Chuck thought of the other handler not mentioned and sighed. "Nothing important. Bad attitude? Nah, no way. I just loved having that crap shoved up my nose without my knowledge or consent. And spending two years marking time in my personal life while the agencies sucked the life out of me."

"Well, Charles, we're definitely going to have to work on the attitude. I will not tolerate an unhappy partner nor should you. So, right off, I'm unhappy because your attitude sucks. We'll work on that. Now, what do you like to do when you're not out saving the world and breaking up plots and disarming bombs and flying helicopters and seducing assassins, bugging mainframes and blowing up your handler's car?" She obviously knew a great deal about him.

"It's Chuck, not Charles. And how do you know so damned much about me?"

"Mission reports, Charles, mission reports. I've read them all. Pretty impressive, too. But you don't follow the rules, Charles, and that can get you hurt. So we'll work on that, too." She looked over at him and grinned. She wouldn't have any problems with this guy. She already liked him and he wasn't the bumbling prick the mission reports described. And he smiled a lot. Maybe she hadn't made a bad first impression after all.

* * *

By 4pm Chuck had registered with the training agent, been assigned a room, unpacked and was looking over the training schedule when his door was opened and a hard looking 40 year old man walked in and sat down at his desk. Chuck flashed and knew he was the Senior Training Agent but nothing else. His file was suspiciously skimpy.

"Bartowski, I'm Agent Jones and I just stopped by to introduce myself and warn you. No one but your partner-in-training and me knows anything about you nor will they, understand? Your 'special talent' will require you to miss some classroom time but your partner will keep you up with the class. Each morning at 7am you will report to the Intel Center for special duties. I don't know what they are but General Beckman requires your unique set of skills. Any questions?"

"None. My 'special talent' is code word info anyways. And the fewer people who know me, the better."

"Good. You're special. You will get special treatment. You will hate the special treatment and me but it's necessary and it's never personal, son. I spoke with John Casey about you. He's impressed with you and that says a lot. Now, your partner is a scatter-brained klutz and this is her third time through the course but the General personally assigned her to you. Help her where you can. It's in your own best interest."

He left just as he'd come in, abruptly.

* * *

**Day 1  
5:30am**

The door to his room banged open and Miranda grabbed his sheet and blanket and pulled them off him yelling at him to get up and get moving because they were burning daylight and they had 5 miles to run before showering and breakfast. He was to be in the Intel Center by 7am sharp, showered and dressed for class. She would go to class. They'd catch up some time during the morning.

It was cool and the sun was just beginning to lighten the eastern horizon and Chuck was ready to die. Mile one had been easy. Mile two was a little more difficult as Miranda picked up the pace. Mile three killed him since she increased the pace again. Mile four was much slower since it was uphill most of the way, winding through thickets on a running path. Mile five was a 'cool down' mile although she left him in her dust by sprinting the final 200 yards and waiting for him. She had barely broken a sweat while Chuck was ready to throw up and was sweating like a pig.

"Charles, we're going to have to work on your endurance. Never can tell when we'll lose our ride and have to use out feet. Go shower and change and we'll go to breakfast. You got 30 minutes, Charles, so you best get it in gear."

He threw her the finger and walked over to the dormitory building. She just laughed and swatted him on the ass and ran ahead. He hated her. With a passion.

* * *

The Intel Center looked like an office building until you realized that office buildings usually didn't have armed guards and retinal scanners. An armed guard escorted him to a windowless office containing a table and chair and a stack of folders. There was also a legal pad and several pens. He was admonished to take nothing from the room, not even the pens. When he wanted to leave or was finished he was to push the button next to the door – the one with no handle on the inside.

Chuck sat down and read files, flashed, made notes, comments and suggestions. He was almost finished when the door opened and the guard told him he was done and had to attend class. He was escorted out of the room and the building and given a ride to the classroom.

Miranda came to his room after dinner and shared her notes with him, talking about the day and the classes but not asking about his 'special duties'.

The daily routine was repeated for the first week until Chuck flashed on something important and time sensitive. He walked to the door and pushed the button. When the guard appeared Chuck explained that he had a special intercept that needed immediate attention. The guard reached for the folded paper and Chuck stepped back.

"You're not cleared for what's written on this paper. Take me to your superior." He'd learned to play at least part of the game.

The scene was repeated until finally Chuck just said, "Take me to General Beckman's office, now!"

**NSA HQ  
****General Beckman's Office**

"Mr. Bartowski, what's so important that it couldn't wait?" She was irritated. Her precious schedule was disrupted. She could be quite obsessive of her time.

"You need to read this. There are two freighters in NY harbor that are each carrying one 5KT tactical nuclear weapon. Both arrived last evening. I cannot tell you the ships' names or when or where detonation will take place. This cannot wait until someone gets around to reading my paperwork."

"Correct. Thank you. Return to your class but say nothing of this to anyone. Not even your partner. Excellent work, Bartowski." And with that he was dismissed.

* * *

Chuck walked into class later than usual. It was an interrogation class using drugs. Miranda was sitting in the front row and had saved him a desk as usual. The other trainees had never questioned why he was late everyday. This was the NSA. Such things happened. The instructor had complained to the senior agent but was told to live with it. He had no need to know.

"Ah, Mr. Bartowski. Just in time. Take a seat here, Mr. Bartowski, and roll up your sleeve." Chuck looked at the instructor and remembered the senior instructor's words. He took in the array of syringes and gulped and the class laughed.

"Now, trainees, this is not the usual environment for this but it's what we have. You should seat your subject in a comfortable chair and inject the drug like this".

He pushed the needle into Chuck's vein and pushed down the plunger. Now he'd find out why the idiot was late every damned morning. He hated him for some reason. Maybe because of his partner. Dweebs always got the hot chicks. He'd hit on her the last cycle but she never fell for his 'cooperate and graduate' line.

Chuck felt warmth spreading throughout his body.

"Now, trainees, wait about a minute and then ask a few base test questions."

He looked at Chuck's drooping eyelids and asked, "What is you name?" and Chuck replied, "Charles Bartowski". Two more questions like 'what color are you eyes' and 'are you married' and the interrogation began.

"Why are you late for class every morning, Trainee?"

"Special duties." This agent did not have code word clearance.

"What special duties?"

"Very special duties." This irked the instructor. He wanted to put this wise ass in his place and hopefully embarrass him. He didn't like Chuck at all. The quiet laughter at his response aggravated him more than it should have and he decided to get physical.

He slapped Chuck across the face and repeated his question differently. "What are your very special duties? Answer the question."

"I – I can't tell you." The class was quiet. Miranda was appalled that the instructor had actually hit her partner.

"What are your very special duties? Answer the question." He punctuated his demand by punching Chuck in the stomach and then the ribs.

Miranda had figured out right from the start that the 'special duties' had to do with the intersect. She watched as he struggled against the drug. And she struggled with her duty.

"What are your very special duties? Answer the damned question, Trainee Bartowski."

Chuck was trying not to form a thought. He thought of Casey and Sarah and Miranda. He said the first thing that popped into his mind.

"I think Miranda's got a nice ass." The class started laughing and Miranda blushed but the instructor was raging inside. He punched Chuck in the nose.

Chuck's head snapped back and then fell forward. Blood started running from it but he picked up his head and stared at his antagonist. And smiled at Miranda.

"God damn you, Bartowski! What are your very special duties? Answer the damned question."

"N-n-no. No. W-won't. C-can't."

The instructor pulled his arm back to hit him again and Miranda dropped him with a spinning back fist to the side of his head. She pointed at one of the trainees and told him to 'find the senior agent' and then went to her partner and started assessing the damage.

**Office of Senior Instructor/Agent**

"You hit your instructor during a demonstration. Why?" He knew why. He'd always known and now he was kicking his ass for not thinking ahead to this very contingency. Bartowski was going to be all right. A broken nose and two black eyes but he'd heal. And he hadn't broken and said anything about the special duties.

"Because he was forcing my partner to divulge code word information. I couldn't let that happen, Agent Jones. He was struggling so hard, saying anything he could except the truth. And then the instructor started hitting him and demanding he tell him the nature of the special duties and still he fought the drugs. Then the instructor punched him in the face and I knew he was close to cracking. When he pulled back his arm to hit him again, I hit him."

"Go back to class. Get your partner and catch up with your training schedule. You did the right thing because we both know what 'special duties' are. He'll be fine. Black eyes, broken nose. Real character builders."

Looking at his watch and grimacing, he called and asked for an appointment with General Beckman. Better she hear about damage to her asset from him than read it in an incident report. He was so looking forward to retirement.

* * *

Beckman was brusque and brutal. "Get that idiot out of this Agency before the sun sets. No benefits, no severance, no letter of recommendation. And no action against Trainee Dawson. She did exactly what she's supposed to do: protect the intersect. And Bartowski? Accelerate their schedules. We need him in the field now more than ever."

The next day Chuck and Miranda were pulled from class and taken out to an airfield and told to hold their questions until they arrived at their destination.


	3. Winter Nights

The Game Winter Nights

**_But we carry on our backs the burden  
Time always reveals  
_**"Fallen" – Sarah McLachlan

* * *

**FT Wainwright, AK**

**Winter Survival Training Center**

Their plane landed in Fairbanks, Alaska, 14 hours later and they were taken directly to the Training Center where they were outfitted with winter survival gear and briefed on their training task.

"Trainees, you'll be dropped in the Denali, given a map, compass and rations and you'll be expected back here in seven days. If you don't make the pickup point by the deadline, you're out of the program. Now, it's –20F outside and it's going to get colder. We don't get much snow here in Fairbanks but you will out in the Denali. Any questions?"

Chuck was in shock. He'd had no instruction at all in winter survival. "Yes. I've had no instruction or training or experience in cold weather survival. You sure you got the right trainees?" Miranda looked at him and laughed. He looked so funny with black eyes and a swollen nose.

"Tough. You haven't but your partner has. Twice, if I remember correctly. Now, your chopper awaits. Get your gear and go."

Chuck waited until they were alone in the warehouse while the driver picked up their gear.

"Twice? You were here twice? In the Army?"

"No. I failed the course twice. This is my last shot. I won't let you down, Charles. I need to pass this time or I'm out." She looked like she was going to cry.

"Hey, if you've done this twice then you're ahead of me. We don't get much call for winter survival in Southern California. I never thanked you for saving my ass back at Meade. If I'd said the magic word I'd be in a hole some place. Really, Miranda, thanks."

"Just listen to what I tell you and don't go off on your own and we'll be fine. But I have one serious question, Charles."

"Chuck, Miranda, Chuck. I hate 'Charles'."

"Fine, _**Chuck, **_do you really think I have a nice ass?" Of all the things she had expected him to say during interrogation, that was not on her list. And she wanted to know.

"Um, uh, yeah, I do, but I'm sorry if it embarrassed you. It was truth serum. I couldn't lie. And you do, Miranda." He was turning cherry red.

"Good. Then help me out here and make sure I don't freeze it off. I know what I'm doing out here. It's in the clutches that I fail."

"Uh, I don't have any idea what the 'clutches' are, Miranda." He tried not to look too stupid in front of her. For some reason her approval was important to him.

"You'll find out. And be disappointed. And recommend I repeat the cycle – which I can't. But I want this assignment, Charles, so I'll try really hard."

"Damn it, Chuck, **C-H-U-C-K**, Chuck. I hate Charles!"

"Sorry, Chuck, it's just that…" She started giggling.

"What?" He was getting angry.

"Nothing. Sorry. Damn, this is worse than the airport."

"We have got to work on our communications skills, Miranda Dawson, if we're going to survive being partners and the damned intersect." He smirked to take the sting out of it. But she knew he was serious.

"Fine. I'll be more open and you be less dorky."

"What are the 'clutches'? Do I need truth serum?"

"You'll find out tonight or tomorrow night. I promise." She was dreading this with a passion. She wanted this assignment and she really liked this guy.

They were provided with cold weather clothing, artic sleeping bags, a tent, snowshoes and ski poles as well as survival rations, maps, compass and miscellaneous gear including survival rifles to be used only in emergencies and a panic device to be used only in the direst of circumstances since it was an 'automatic fail' if used. It all fit into their packs – their very large and heavy packs – after they'd changed into their cold weather clothing.

"Damn, this must weigh a hundred pounds." Chuck was taller than Miranda and hadn't situated his pack right. She showed him how to adjust the straps and settle it in the right place so he wasn't bent over at the waist like some old man.

"Better, much better. Where'd you learn all this stuff?" He was honestly curious.

"The Army and Meade. Now, we have to catch that chopper. We don't want to sleep outdoors tonight and it gets dark here, well, darker, in 5 hours."

* * *

**The Denali  
Temperature -20F**

The helicopter landed and they got out and put on their packs and ran to the edge of the large mountain meadow to escape the blast of ice, snow and wind when the helicopter took off again.

"OK, we're here and we need to go here and camp. It's 6 miles that way. Let's go, Charles. We're losing the light earlier than I thought. And the sky is not looking too good either. It's gonna snow."

They made 4 miles through the shallow snow, slowed by the occasional drifts and snags and blow-downs that blocked their trail and required backtracking. Chuck was dragging but Miranda was in her element. Chuck thought it was getting colder but she thought it was 'invigorating'. When it started to snow, big flakes, she was like a little kid. Chuck was miserable. He hated cold weather. He was from southern California. He thought she must have been born in Iceland.

Miranda checked the map and decided to halt for the night. It was snowing too hard to pick out any landmarks and she thought it best to stop and prepare for the night. Chuck just wanted to lie down and let the snow cover him. He figured they'd find his body in the spring and thaw him out and he'd be OK.

Miranda showed him how to set up the tent, pulled her pack off and tossed it inside, motioning him to do the same. They crawled in and zipped it shut. She unrolled their sleeping bags and fiddled with the zippers and then zipped them together forming a big bag.

"Easier to get and stay warm. Twice the body heat. Now, strip down to your thermals and crawl in. Put your boots near your head so you can find them in the dark. C'mon, Charles, it's going to get colder and we've got to conserve body heat."

Chuck started peeling off the layers of clothing, folding everything in reverse order for the morning's dressing. When he was down to his socks and thermal underwear he dove into the bag and held it open for Miranda who followed within seconds.

"H-H-How cold do you think it is?"

"It's warming up a bit. Has to, to snow. Probably –10F or so. Pretty soon it'll be 35 or 40F in here. You just wait. Now, we're going to be pretty close in here once I zip the bag. Nothing to be shy about. I've had brothers and lovers, Charles, so nothing will surprise me."

"You did this with your brothers? Gross…" He remembered from her file that she was an only child. Why lie about something so…unimportant.

"No, I meant, never mind. Sometimes, Charles, you can be so damned dense."

"How much snow do you think we'll get?"

"Don't know. Maybe a foot. We'll find out in the morning. Now, roll over and put your arms around me and I'll do the same to you and we'll be toasty warm in no time."

This was the moment of truth for Dawson. She had a phobia. A bad one. She couldn't stand being confined by another person. She would begin to sweat, tremble, then cry and finally just…wig out. She had her reasons.

Chuck put his arms around her and snuggled her against his chest. She was warm and he was getting there. Thank God she was a girl. He couldn't imagine doing this with, say, Casey. He shuddered with the image.

"Charles, I can't breathe, you're smothering me. Please, let me go. I can't breathe." He heard the panic in her voice and immediately put his hands to his sides. _'She's wigging out. This must be the 'clutches' she was telling me about. She's claustrophobic apparently. The shrinks didn't catch this?'_

"Dawson, take a deep breath. I'm going to turn my back to you. Snuggle up against it for warmth and we'll be fine. I'm sorry if I was holding you too tightly. I'm cold and was trying to hurry the warming thing."

"No, I'm sorry. It's me. I have this thing…"

"Yeah, I noticed. Now, it's ok to put your arms around me and hold tight if it helps generate heat. Sorry about before. You should have said something. Maybe we should separate the bags until you feel more comfortable with me."

"No. I have to get used to…us being together." She really wanted this to work. She liked Charles and saw the intersect as a wonderful tool for espionage. She wanted to be part of Team Intersect. She wanted a future with the NSA and this assignment would guarantee it.

"Um, Dawson, I have an idea. You be in control. I'll lie down and you lay on me with your head on my chest and it'll be the same thing as before. It that doesn't work, I'll opt for my back to you and you just hug up until you get warm."

"I'll try. Charles, I'm so sorry. I thought for sure this time would be better. I've worked so hard on these issues…" That piqued Chuck's curiosity.

"How? You and your boyfriend sleep in a deep freeze or something?" She laughed and listened to his heartbeat.

"No. I went to see an off-the-books shrink. I did a lot of mental work to prepare myself. I'm sorry. I have these issues about…"

"No. They're your private stuff. Please. I don't want to know. Just keep on breathing and I'll keep my hands to my sides and you should be warm. I'm getting there. Fine. I think we should sleep. We have extra miles to put behind us tomorrow because of the storm."

It worked. And sometime during the night Chuck's arms went around her and they slept, warm and relatively comfortable. Dawson woke before 'dawn' to Chuck's mumbling in her ear about 'cover' and someone named 'Sarah'. She felt… irritated by the subject for no good reason but snuggled up against his warm body and dropped back to sleep. She breathed a sigh of relief. No wigging out, no pressing the panic button this time. Maybe she'd be all right.

* * *

"Oh – My God! Charles!" Chuck lurched out of a sound sleep and fumbled around for … he didn't know what. He'd been on the beach with Sarah doing something illegal in several states and now he was in…a deep freeze. This was definitely not California.

"Charles, get up and get dressed. We've got a problem. Charles? Damn it, get dressed and get out here!"

"I'm up. I'm up! I'm getting dressed…chill out a moment." He laughed at how ludicrous the 'chill out' comment was. He opened the zipper of the tent and gasped. Everything was white. There was snow drifted up over the back of the tent. It had snowed – at least 2 more feet over what was already on the ground. And it was still snowing although the wind had died down to the occasional gust. The sun was nowhere in sight. Oh, yeah, only 5 hours of twilight then dark.

"Well, this means we have to get going. We're already behind schedule. Let me answer Nature's call and then we'll break camp. Damn! I've never seen this much snow."

"Charles, this is going to cut our daily mileage a lot since we'll have to break trail. We'll take turns. But first rule, stay hydrated. I'll set up the stove and get snow melt and then we'll have the dehydrated breakfast and drink coffee and then water, lots of water."

It was the first time they'd done this so of course it took a lot longer than it should have. Dawson went over every step to make sure Chuck knew the what and why of her actions. She'd definitely been here before and gotten Army training as well.

They took down the tent, repacked and set off on the second leg of their journey. Dawson had shown Chuck how to resect and do reverse azimuths on the compass and locate a position using landmarks. She made him do it several times during their trek to ensure he knew what he was doing. When they broke for 'lunch' she made him set up the stove and do all the 'cooking' and nodded with approval. He was a good student and fast learner.

The second half of their day was harder since their trail followed terrain features and was partly uphill. Chuck was winded and struggling when they took their hourly break.

"Charles, you're going to have to pick up the pace. We're falling behind and from the looks of the sky, we're going to have another storm and might not make our objective for day 2. And we'll lose the light a lot sooner in this weather. Another storm means more snow and tougher going tomorrow. We've only come 10 miles since getting off the chopper. We're behind the curve and I'm worried more snow will mean less distance covered."

"We could hold off setting up camp until later and leave earlier in the morning, couldn't we?" Chuck knew how important this was to her and since they were going to be partners, it was important to him, too.

"Depends on the weather. They don't normally send student teams out at this time of the year. I guess we're important. I mean, our training is important enough to risk us freezing in a blizzard. OK, we'll go a bit longer tonight and then leave earlier. But we have to keep a constant pace. You're too slow, Chuck, even with me breaking trail."

"I'll try harder. Let me lead a while. Maybe I'll learn some tricks. Maybe we could replot our course and trim some corners? Might make up for lost time?"

"We'll see. These damned mountains are dangerous. We could end up in an impasse and lose time retracing our steps. Let's replot a course tonight. We'll drag out the topo maps and see." She'd skipped over the major worry this close to the mountains – avalanches. Their course took them around and through several areas that were prime avalanche candidates.

Chuck took the lead setting an azimuth and then walking and pushing through the thigh-deep snow. The snow was so light, snowshoes were useless and they'd abandoned them earlier in the morning.

The temperature began to drop and the snow became more crystallized and the going easier. If it continued to stay 'packed' they could use their snowshoes and make up some lost time.

It was pitch black when Dawson called out to Chuck to stop and begin to make camp. Chuck was so tired and going on autopilot for the past hour. They struggled to set up the tent in the wind and finally got inside and began their ritual of undressing and then diving into the joined bags.

Dawson had no problem with 'clutch issues' and assumed her position on Chuck's chest. She was so damned tired. When she told 'Charles' to pick up the pace he had and several times she almost called out to him to slow down but they needed to make up for lost time.

**The Denali  
Temperature -40F Wind Chill -90F**

Chuck woke up to the sound of the wind howling and the tent flapping on itself. They'd picked a spot sheltered by some pine trees but the wind was still gusting fiercely. Dawson woke and heard the wind and saw the tent fabric flapping and judged the wind gusts to be between 30 and 40mph. Not a good sign. She sensed Charles was awake.

"Wind's really picked up. I'd hate to be out there in it. Charles, you did really good today. We made up almost all our lost miles. If we leave earlier like you said and don't run into any problems we'll be on the curve by the end of the day. You really came through for us."

She snuggled against him, willing herself to accept his embrace. He wasn't trying anything, just keeping them warm. She consciously relaxed for the first time in anyone's arms in six long years.

* * *

**Winter Survival Training Rendezvous Point  
Temperature -60F Wind Chill - You Don't Want To Know  
**

They made it to the rendezvous point with 3 hours to spare. Miranda Dawson was so excited that she kissed Chuck and hugged him. "Oh, Charles, we did it. We made it. No recycle! Thank you for not pushing the damned panic button, Charles."

They hunkered down at the pickup site and waited. And waited.

"Dawson, I don't think we're getting a ride tonight. Maybe the weather? It's been wickedly cold. Maybe they figure one more night in the meat locker won't kill us?"

"No. According to GPS we're where we're supposed to be. We're just early."

The pickup time came and went. Either the Army was late or they weren't coming.

"Dawson, we're setting up camp. Screw them. They're late. It's getting colder and the wind's picking up and we're in the valley and there's no place to set up out of the wind. Let's set up the tent and eat and then rack. If they aren't here by 7am, we'll walk to the damned Post. I am not sitting on my frozen ass tomorrow."

"Yeah, it's getting colder. You're right. Tomorrow we walk into Fairbanks and have words with the training coordinator."

It was –60F and all activity at FT Wainwright ceased. No training, no civilian traffic, no movement off post. The Army was hunkered down waiting out the storm of the century, Alaska-style. The training coordinator had left earlier in the day without leaving word of the trainee pickup point and time with his 2IC.

* * *

They'd eaten the last of their emergency rations the night before and woke up hungry, chilled and aggravated but still in each other's arms. With the wind howling, it made conversation easier.

"Charles, who's Sarah? Your girlfriend?" He'd mumbled several entire conversations with her in his sleep. Some of the comments made no sense but others did. She was curious.

"No. My original CIA handler and 'cover' girlfriend. She's somewhere warm, doing important things. Spy things. She's CIA but the best agent the CIA has. I learned a lot from her, just… it was just that some of the lessons were harsh. But I learned my lessons. I surely did."

"Well, you certainly learned winter survival the hard way. I'm sorry for wigging out on you the first night, Charles. It was embarrassing and I'm really glad you didn't push the recall button."

"Hey, bygones. So, do you think you're ready for Southern California? I want to take you to the beach and teach you to surf and then we'll go out and watch the Gray Whales migrate. You're gonna love California. The best thing about it is that it's warm!"

Four hours later they walked through Fairbanks, ignoring the stares of the citizens, to the Post's main gate. A vehicle from the training center came and picked them up. The coordinator was full of apologies, especially after a conversation with General Beckman earlier that morning.

He'd driven out to the pickup site earlier that morning but they'd already left and when he reported that they hadn't made pickup, Beckman demanded that he initiate a search. He'd just been ready to send out a troop of Stryker scouts from the 1/55 Mech when the gate had called about his missing trainees.

He marked their paperwork 'PASSED' and took them to the airport personally to fly back to Baltimore.


	4. Interlude

**_Interlude_**

**NSA Training Academy Dormitory**

Chuck couldn't sleep and he had no idea why not. He felt uncomfortable in his bunk. He was restless and spent an hour tossing and turning without being able to get comfortable. His week in the wilds had made an impression on him. Maybe it was too quiet? No howling wind and no tent flapping?

He finally got up and slipped on sleep pants and a t-shirt and went down to the game room. It was midnight and he expected it to be empty. Maybe a quick cup of coffee and a boring infomercial would make him sleepy. He was certainly tired.

He started for the coffee pot when he caught sight of Miranda Dawson sitting on a couch reading a magazine. So he wasn't the only one who couldn't sleep?

"Hey, Dawson, want some coffee? I cannot sleep and don't know why. Maybe the absence of a howling wind?"

She'd had the same problem only she was a lot less dense than her partner.

"Charles, let's go." She took him by the hand and led him out of the game room and back to her room. She pushed him down on the bed and stripped down to t-shirt and panties and then lay down on him and pulled the covers over them.

"Now go to sleep. You're tired. I'm tired. Go to sleep, Charles."

A switch clicked in his mind. He'd missed her. Her presence. Her warmth and the feel of her body on his. He'd been – incomplete.

She sighed and snuggled against him and he put his arms around her and they both slept.

* * *

**NSA HQ  
F****T Meade, MD**

Diane Beckman had read the reports from the Winter Survival Training director. They'd passed, arriving before the deadline but spending another night due to intense cold and blizzard conditions. The team had walked from the pickup point to the post main gate and been picked up and then sent back to Baltimore.

Beckman smiled her tight 'I'm so smart' smile. Bartowski was broken and needed someone broken so that he could fix her and help himself. Obviously Dawson had overcome her 'problem' with his help and managed to complete the course. Bartowski was coming along nicely and her choice of his partner had been correct.

The next training phases were simple by comparison and she was amused to read that the two were inseparable since their first night back from Alaska. Apparently adversity bonded these two and that pleased Beckman. Team Intersect needed a strong emotional support ingredient since the intersect host was prone to emotional responses. They'd toughen him up or kill him trying.

Her weekly briefing with Major Casey was more an update of the progress of young Bartowski than anything. Major Casey had spent time in refresher courses and had added his expertise to other operations run out of NSA-L.A.

**Joint CIA/NSA/Interpol Operations HQ  
****Ukraine**

Sarah Walker wished for the one-hundredth time that she were still in California. It was warm there. It was sunny there. He was there.

She didn't regret taking on this assignment. It was exciting, challenging and a career building step for her. Besides, she occasionally had dinner and sex with an intriguing MI-6 agent she'd met in California. It was not serious. It was just food and sexual release.

What she did regret was the way she'd left her asset. It had been unnecessarily cruel but she wanted a clean break and wanted him to have no illusions about how she felt. She was not ever going to see him again and it wouldn't have been fair to leave him with false hope. Everyone needed closure.

She was such a liar.

She had loved her dorky nerd from almost the first moment she'd met him and had been touched and thrilled to know he felt the same. She'd died a little when she'd returned the charm bracelet and he'd said he'd given it to the woman he wanted to marry. And then he'd caressed her cheek and left, but not before she saw his eyes fill with tears. Hers were only seconds away.

She spoke with Casey every once in a while and had been shocked to learn Chuck had maneuvered the NSA into agency training. And secretly pleased. He was becoming the man she knew he had the potential to become. And maybe she would run into him again in the course of their careers.

She was such a liar.


	5. Returning to the Scene of the Crime

The Game

Returning to the Scene of the Crime

**_We all begin with good intent  
Love was raw and young  
_**"Fallen" – Sarah McLachlan

* * *

**Chuck's Condo**  
**Venice, CA**

Everything was exactly how he'd left it except it was a lot cleaner than before. He'd left Ellie a key and she'd hired a cleaning lady who'd come in once a week for as long as he was gone. Ellie had strongly hinted that it might be a good idea if the cleaning lady continued to come in once a week _after_ he was back. As much as Chuck liked the idea, having a stranger coming in once a week was just too risky. Still, he'd ask Dawson what she thought about it.

He'd unpacked and put on his 'grunge' clothes and headed for the beach. He had five more days until he had to report to the NSA-LA but he figured he'd look Casey up tonight after dinner at Ellie's and see how far behind he was and maybe get a head start on the intel dailies. Dawson was on leave for another week and then would join him. She was driving her little death trap from Odessa to L.A. He wondered if she'd hate the traffic as much as Casey did.

He found he missed her. He loved her accent, her wit and her sharp mind. He knew people would underestimate her because of that accent and found that to be an advantage. But mostly he missed _her_. His resolve to keep an emotional distance from his new partner/girlfriend had melted when she'd led him to her room to sleep. And sleep is all they ever did. Until the last night in Baltimore.

* * *

_The graduation ceremony consisted of getting handed your official NSA Photo ID Card and a shield in a black leather wallet and a handshake from your training instructor. Big deal. Until he noticed that his ID and Dawson's were different from the others. Their ID's were 'enhanced' with a diagonal red stripe, and none of the others' were. A couple of his fellow trainees nudged someone and pointed or whispered but nothing was officially noted. They'd learned their lessons well._

_Dawson and Chuck had a briefing with General Beckman. Poor Miranda was shaking with nerves and wishing she'd dressed better. Chuck whispered in her ear that 'Diane was a sweetheart, all bluster and no bite' and she'd calmed down a little._

"_Agents Dawson and Bartowski, welcome to the NSA. Team Intersect will be much more effective when you two are back in the field. You both have two weeks leave coming. Enjoy them. Also, I expect you two to attend the 'graduation party' in Baltimore. It's tradition and you will find it interesting. That is all. No, wait a moment. Chuck, it's official. You can get out of the van now. Mira, watch his ass. He's a trouble magnet and much too prone to throw himself into the fray without thinking. It's your job to keep him from doing so. Now, be gone."_

_As they walked down the corridor to the entrance and parking lot, Dawson could no longer contain herself._

"_Charles, what did she mean 'you could get out of the van now'?"_

"_Um, well, I had no training at all and I used to have to stay in the van or truck or car when the agents went in to do their thing and sometimes I'd have to get involved and then like, y'know 'leave the van' and sometimes…sometimes I'd screw up and make things worse and Sarah and Casey were always yelling at me to stay in the van."_

"_You babble when you're nervous, Charles. So you got in a lot of trouble back then? Well, I suppose we'll both see some trouble. Just don't get your ass blown away, Charles. I've grown accustomed to it. Yeah, really. And like the General said, I have to keep you from leaping before we both look, right? And then we'll both leap."_

* * *

_**Baltimore Harbor Hotel  
**__**Baltimore, MD**_

_They got a room at the hotel since she was leaving in the morning for Texas and he had an update scheduled for the 'special files' later in the morning and would be flying to L.A. that afternoon. She'd wanted him to come to Odessa with him and 'meet the folks' but he'd begged off saying he wanted to spend time getting the condo ready for her as well as spend time at NSA-LA and with his family._

"_Maybe Christmas? I'd like to meet them, especially all those brothers you slept with to stay warm. Think you could teach me to ride a horse? You do have horses on your ranch, don't you?" He was teasing her and she took it well. _

"_Charles, my dad's a bank executive and my mom teaches 3__rd__ grade. We live in a tract home outside Odessa on the East Side, the better side to be sure. But no, no horses on our acre. Sorry. But I have friends with horses and I'll teach you to ride if you teach me to surf. Fair's fair, Agent Bartowski."_

"_Deal. Now go change for the party and I'll just hang out at the bar. See you in an hour. Please, no boots, Mira." It was the first time he'd called her Mira. Normally he just called her 'Dawson'. She noticed and smiled a quiet smile._

"_See ya in a tad, Charles. Don't get drunk. I want to dance, sweetie, not hold your head out of the pot while you puke."_

_Forty-five minutes later she tapped him on the shoulder. He'd been nursing his one and only beer and watching a baseball game to pass the time. He spun around on his bar stool and smiled. She'd put her hair up in some fancy style and had on a cocktail dress that plunged almost indecently and she wore high heels, not boots. _

"_You sure do clean up nicely, Mira. Although I wish I'd spent more time in hand-to-hand class, or at least paid more attention to it."_

"_Why on earth think of that now?"_

"_Because I'm going to spend the evening beating off the other guys. My word but you're beautiful."_

_She blushed then smiled shyly. "Thanks, Charles. That means a lot to me coming from you. Now, take me dancing and we'll see how the night works out for us. The General says it's a tradition. Wouldn't want to have her mad at us. She might send us back for winter survival refresher."_

_They only danced with each other. Mira blew off anyone else, and as she drank more, she got blunter. She told one guy to stay away, not to bother them, that she would be without him for 2 whole weeks and she needed a 'booster shot of Chuck' to survive. He noticed 'Chuck' but didn't say anything. _

_When he'd decided that the dancing was going a little too far he suggested they head up to the room since he had an early update scheduled and wanted her on the road and on the way home before the traffic became totally impossible. She practically dragged him to the elevator._

_As soon as the car started moving she turned to him and took his head between her hands and pulled him down and kissed him hungrily. By the time they reached the room she'd pulled his shirt out of his pants and had his tie off and her dress was unzipped and he was frantically trying to remember if he had a condom._

"_Oh, wow, Chuck. That was…incredible." She rolled off him and then started fondling him. "I don't just jump in the sack with anyone, Chuck, but I've wanted to do that since Alaska but I was just too shy. So, any regrets? Think this will get in the way of our partnership?"_

_He didn't say anything. He just had a big smile on his face._

"_Mira, with or without the sex, the partnership is destined for greatness. The sex is just between us, not the partners, understand? And it was great. You're great. My sister's going to pepper you with a thousand questions because she's going to take one look at me and hug you. I'll explain why after we get back from Ellie's. Not before, so don't ask."_

_She snuggled up against him, running her fingers slowly up and down the inside of his thigh and driving him crazy. She never thought it could be like this. So – so – sweet and loving. She'd never forget this. And she wanted more from this gorgeous man she was also partnered with. Living together in L.A. was going to be fabulous. _

_She kissed him goodbye in the Intel Center at Meade and promised to call him several times so he'd be sure she arrived in Odessa safely. She was so sorry he couldn't meet her folks. Especially her dad. He dad was going to love Chuck like the son he'd never had._

* * *

**Casa Bartowski**

Ellie and Devon were tense throughout dinner and Chuck found himself carrying the conversation, taking up way too much time talking and not much time letting them get words in edgewise. Devon got a page and went to call his service and Chuck finally asked Ellie what was wrong.

"He's getting cold feet about the wedding. Now he wants to wait until we get our practices set up. That's another 18 months for me to have to wait. I don't know, little brother, I think maybe he's having 2nd thoughts. We've fallen into such a rut lately. All we do is work, clean up, study, and then sleep. I can't tell you how stale and boring our sex life has become."

"Whoa! TMI, Ellie, TMI. I'm your brother not your priest. My God, the images will warp my mind for years to come."

Chuck could always make Ellie laugh and tonight was no exception. "Chuck, I'm so glad you're back. You look…different, I don't know, more confident and it looks like you've been working out. So tell me all about the new company and your training classes."

Chuck told her the cover story, mentioned that he'd met someone special and that she was transferring to L.A. and he'd bring her around to meet them once she got settled in. Ellie's senses went on alert. He was talking about this girl, Miranda Dawson, in great detail and with a great deal of affection.

She could hear it in his voice when he talked about them jogging 5 miles every morning before training and then being partnered on training projects. After Jill, Lou and Sarah, Ellie had about given up hope he'd ever find someone he could invest himself in. She hoped this Miranda woman was that someone because Chuck seemed to think she was even though he didn't know it.

Devon walked Chuck out to his 'company car' and abruptly stopped him in the courtyard. "I suppose Ellie bent your ear about my 'cold feet' and the problems we're having? Want to hear my side before you decide I'm a prick and an asshole?" Chuck couldn't remember Devon ever cursing so he paid attention. "Yeah. She said you wanted to wait until you both got practices up and running."

"She's driving me crazy with this wedding crap. It's like a wedding planner from Hell has possessed her. I love your sister and want to marry her but I want to be financially ready and getting married before I have a practice will just be more stress on the marriage. Understand?"

"Yeah. Have you explained this to Ellie? She's gone in a totally different direction. She says the sex sucks and you're cold and indifferent. It's none of my business but all you have to do is talk to her. I'll hint around to tone down the volume with the wedding and talk to her about finances."

"Thanks, bro. Any chance of Sarah coming back? Ellie's still debates about replacing her. Man, when she starts…"

"Hey, chill. Walker's gone permanently. Never ever coming back. She needs to find a new bridesmaid."

"Sorry, man. That's cold. You doing OK?"

"Yeah. I met someone at Company orientation and she's moving here to work so I think I'll be bringing her around. You'll like her."

**NSA – LA**

The next morning Chuck reported in to the Intel Center and went through screening and then was directed to where Casey had set up Team Intersect. He walked in while Casey was on the phone with someone and waited to say hello and not interrupt.

"He graduated with 'distinction' according to Beckman, even impressed the senior training agent and I know him and that's pretty damned hard to do. He's back and waiting for his new partner. I haven't seen him yet. He's probably sleeping late and eating Ellie out of house and home." There was a long pause.

"No, definitely not. I will not allow that. What's done is done. Leave him alone. It's too late to be sorry now. You did what you did for the right reasons and 'explaining' how you felt and feel won't change a damned thing."

There was a pause while the other party spoke and Casey responded acidly.

"Don't do this to him. He's starting fresh with new talent and they've bonded better than any team the senior agent's ever seen. As senior agent in charge, I forbid any contact. Keep your ass in Europe. Stay safe, Walker, and I'm done talking to you."

Chuck hesitated and then walked back down the corridor, turned around and started for Casey's office again. Casey came out saw him approaching and grinned – actually grinned.

"Hey, Agent Bartowski. Good job. I knew you had it in you. They had good things to say about you, Chuck. Don't get cocky."

He noticed that there wasn't the usual spark in his eyes but he wrote that off to the piss-poor government lighting.

"Hey, Major Casey, SIR, reporting in a day early. Wanted to get started on the backlog. Where do we call home in this maze?"

Casey felt something was wrong but let it go. Too soon to be busting his ass over something he wasn't sure of. Still, it was good to see the moron. He looked a lot more fit than the scrawny idiot that left here.

"Come with me. You're gonna love the tech wizardry. So, tell me about our new partner. What's she like? Will she fit in?"

Once Casey heard Chuck speak about Miranda Dawson he breathed a mental sigh of relief. New game, new players. New girlfriend, no cover needed. And Chuck was animated and enthusiastic about her, something he never was with…the other handler.

Jones had told him about the truth serum incident and his partner's response. Casey approved. Chuck never mentioned it but Casey knew he'd found his partner. Agent Bartowski and Agent Dawson, Team Intersect. Casey was senior agent and would soon be C_olonel_ Casey and his responsibilities would change. They'd be adding another agent to the mix to balance out the established partnership. Casey hoped it would be as good a match for him as they'd found for Bartowski.


	6. Home is Where the Heart Is

The Game5

**Home is Where the Heart is.**

Chuck had everything ready. He'd double-checked her progress towards L.A. via numerous phone calls, he'd put clean sheets on the bed and even gone through and moved everything around to give her a full closet and wardrobe and the entire vanity in the bathroom. He only needed a shelf for his shaving gear and most times he never took the stuff out of his travel kit.

He'd had Ellie and Devon over for dinner and a quick tour and then they'd gone out and hit the bars. Ellie loved the condo, reminded him of the cleaning lady and then gushed over the preparations he'd made for the arrival of his work friend. Yeah, 'work friend' her aunt Fanny. She noticed the empty closet and the dresser drawers. His relationship had progressed a lot further than he'd let on and she was so happy for him.

Dawson had called him several times on her drive to LA giving him progress reports and teasing him about being the 'overprotective partner'. She loved his concern and would show him just how much when she reported in.

**NAS-LA  
****Team Intersect**

Miranda Dawson had to ask twice for directions to Major Casey's office. No one seemed to have heard of him. When she asked about Agent Bartowski, several secretaries offered to guide her to the 'Wizard's Den', the name the team's offices had been given by the NSA agents who'd gotten to know Chuck or knew him from his Castle-based missions.

Miranda got on the elevator and pressed the button for the basement level and got off and followed the directions she'd been given. She came to a steel fire door with a simple card reader. She ran her ID through the reader and heard a loud 'click' and then pulled the heavy door open and stepped into another century.

There were large plasma monitors in the walls, computer terminals all over the place, Lucite walls dividing up workspaces and other rooms, a firing range, a small detention area and several small dormitory rooms. But no Charles Bartowski.

"You are Agent Dawson," boomed a loud voice over a hidden speaker in the ceiling. If you're not, you need to turn around and leave and never speak of this place or return. You have 5 seconds and counting. 4. 3. 2."

Figuring something terrible might happen if the countdown reached 0 without a response she answered, "Yes, I am Agent Miranda Dawson. Where is Agent Bartowski, or Major Casey?"

"Please place your right hand on the scanner and state your name, ID Code, and assignment, Agent Miranda Dawson."

The disembodied computer voice was freaking her out but she knew better than to question automated authorities so she placed her hand on the scanner. It lit up and then blinked red rapidly.

"State your name, ID Code, and assignment. You have 5 seconds and counting. 4. 3. 2."

She stated the required information and waited.

"Now, Agent Miranda Dawson, remove every item of clothing and place it in the bin next to the scan desk."

"What?!" She heard laughter from the ceiling and from behind her. She whirled around and was enveloped in Chuck's arms and kissed with a fervor she'd felt in Baltimore and missed until now.

"Sorry, Mira, I just couldn't help myself. It's so damned good to see you and hold you again. I've missed you. And those naughty hints you kept giving on the calls during your drive here drove me crazy."

"Charles, I've missed you but we need to be very professional on the job, OK? Now, in the privacy of our own home, I'm going to turn you every which way but loose, BUT, not on duty, Charles."

"Casey's around here someplace. You'll like him once you get past his bluff exterior. And learn his grunts. Be nice to him. I'm an agent because he had the balls to go up against Beckman for me."

"He's the boss, Charles, of course I'll be nice to him, and professional and respectful."

"Well, at least someone around here knows how things should be done. I'm John Casey, Major, USAF, attached as Team Leader to Team Intersect. I have to admit Chuck's description of you failed miserably. Let's get you logged in, set the retinal scanner to accept you and then you and the moron here have the rest of the day off."

Chuck smiled and nodded. Casey was not totally without heart.

"There is one thing I have to warn you about, Agent Dawson. Chuck has a sister, an MD. She practically raised the Nerd after his parents bailed. She's…emotional and very physical. You need to pass muster with Ellie before you can hope for a moment's peace or a decent meal."

"Casey, she's not that bad. You don't seem to remember how she took you in and fed you over how many holidays when you were working as a green shirt at the Buy More?"

"Fine. Agent, you've been warned. Get her set up with the scanner and then bail, Chuck. See you tomorrow for the orientation and grand tour, Dawson. And don't be too hard on the moron. He spent the last few days worrying about the drive you had to make in your little 'death trap'."

"Also, you are cleared to tell Dr. Bartowski and Dr. Woodcomb that you are employed by the NSA as analysts, nothing more. It's been decided that hiding things in plain sight makes sense and I agree. Your lives will be easier if it becomes necessary to go on missions for extended periods. Also, 'Charles', you may tell her that I am your direct supervisor but nothing more. And that I expect to be invited to the wedding and Thanksgiving."

He wanted Chuck as far from NSA-LA as soon as possible. Someone was in L.A. and looking for him – against orders. He didn't need the hassle now, not when things were looking up for him and the team.

* * *

**Casa Bartowski**

Sarah Walker was on a tight timetable. She was back in the US for talks with Defense Department staff on the tactical nukes they were searching for and had two days' delay en route back to Romania and her task force. She wanted to find Chuck and talk with him and maybe make some arrangements. She wasn't sure. The only thing she was sure of was that she had to see him and make her feelings known to him. She loved him.

The Orange Orange was gone. Nothing stood in its place because of the great big hole in the ground. The Buy More was no help. Both Chuck and Casey had quit the same day and hadn't been seen since. She thought she'd hit up Morgan for information but he was at Corporate in a training seminar.

Taking a deep breath, she knocked on Chuck's door. Ellie answered and looked at her for a second before recognition dawned on her and then her eyes narrowed and Sarah could feel 'EllieDisgust' radiate off her.

"Chuck doesn't live here anymore, Ms. Walker. He moved 4 months ago and I don't have an address on him. I've seen him once since then and that was briefly before he left again on company business. If you wish to leave a message, I'll be happy to give it to him the next time I see him although I have no idea when that might be."

Translation: He's gone, you bitch. He moved out and cut himself off from family and friends. Any message you leave will be flushed down the commode, undelivered.

"Oh, no, I just wanted to stop by and say hello. Just tell him I stopped by and said 'Hi'." She had to get out of there before she started crying. He was an agent and off on agency business and she'd never hear from or see him again. She'd covered all the bases. It was over. The last bridge was burned.

Ellie saw the disappointment flash across her face and the glistening of unshed tears in her eyes and thought she was going to begin crying right there on her door step but she just turned and walked rapidly away.

**Chuck and Miranda's Condo  
****Venice, CA**

"Oh, Chuck, this is wonderful. You can see the ocean from the balcony and you can be on the beach in 5 minutes. And the place is spotless! I'm so proud of you. I had visions of pizza boxes and take out containers littering the place but this is incredible."

"I have a cleaning lady that picks up after me. I didn't want to let her go unless you were uncomfortable with the idea of someone snooping through our stuff. She's been investigated and given a clean sheet. I'd really like to keep her, baby. She comes in one day a week and keeps this place inspection-ready."

"Definitely. I'm not a domestic goddess except in the bedroom, Charles. Now, show me where we sleep and let me unpack and then let's take a walk. I've never seen the Pacific. I want to walk on the beach with my…what are you to me?"

"I'm whatever you want me to be. Just don't ask me to be…gone, Mira."

Her face turned white and she grabbed him and hugged him whispering 'never, Chuck, never'. He hugged her back and then released her and led her to the bedroom. It had a view of the beach and ocean and a balcony also.

"I love it. This is so much better than a dorm bed at the Academy. Much nicer. A lot of room to play." She giggled and blushed.

"Unpack and freshen up. I kept a closet and bureau free for you and also the entire bathroom vanity is yours, too. Let me know if you need more room, Mira, and I'll move some more stuff. No problem."

Chuck walked into the living area and heard Miranda shriek. He ran back into the bedroom, scooped his pistol out of his holster hanging on the hook of the door and ran into the bathroom, not knowing what to expect but ready for anything.

Miranda Dawson was standing partially undressed and grinning and pointing to the Jacuzzi unit beside the shower.

"Is that what I think it is, honey? Is that a Jacuzzi?" Her grin got wider and more licentious.

"Um, yeah, it's also a bath tub although I prefer a shower. Is that a problem?"

"Nope. Get naked, California boy. I want you, and me in that. And not necessarily in that order, either. My God, this place is…I'll never be able to go to work. What? You're still dressed?" She walked up to him and took his head between her hands like she did in the elevator and kissed him with pretty much the same results.

An hour later she was almost asleep. The post-coital bliss coupled with the long drive and the frantic coupling followed by slow lovemaking had done her in. "Baby, if anything happens to me on the job, I want buried in this thing." She chuckled sleepily.

"Mira, we need to get out of this tub and get you to bed. You'll feel better after a nap. I'm going to take you out on the town after you've slept a bit and show you around. We're supposed to have a late dinner at Ellie's but we can beg off if you're too tired. I told her we weren't definitely sure since you might be tired from the drive."

"No, let me nap for a bit then we'll get comfortable and you can tell me what Ellie does and doesn't know. And what's the dress code? I may need to buy some new clothes since most of my stuff is Texas or East Coast. I do want to fit in and look good for you."

"You'd look great to me in a burlap sack, Mira. I'll wake you at 6pm. And for God's sake put some clothes on. I'm only human and not used to performing repeatedly. Have pity on me. Please."

"Fine. Go do your thing and wake me at six. I seem to remember telling you we had to work on your endurance. I see we need to start running again in the mornings. You've lost some of your mojo, Charles."

**Casa Bartowski**

Chuck knocked, feeling a little foolish but thinking how he'd feel if someone just barged into his condo. Miranda was wearing one of Chuck's blue oxford cloth shirts and blue jeans and her boots. She was obsessed with and devoted to her boots. And she had 6 pairs. She'd done something mysterious to her hair and it looked fantastic and the overall impression Chuck got was 'yummy'.

"Remember what I told you, Mira. She's a touchy-feely kinda person. You'll like Devon, though. Nice guy, doctor, good looking. Think of him as Anti-Chuck." He always used humor to cover up for his feelings.

"Charles, quit tearing yourself down. That's my job. To nag. And remake you in my ideal mold. All the things they've told you about controlling women? They're true." Chuck gulped audibly and she giggled.

"Charles, the only thing I want to control is your sex drive. You can't drive anywhere, only with me, got it?" She laughed and elbowed him. He was so insecure sometimes.

Devon opened the door with a booming "They're here, Ellie." He looked at a smiling Chuck and then at the tall woman at his side. He took in the protective stance Chuck had assumed, not really a shift in physical position but certainly one in the vibes he was giving off.

"Hi, I'm Devon, Ellie's fiancé and you have _got _to be Miranda. Come on in. Ellie's in the kitchen putting some finishing touches on things. I don't know what. I stay out of there unless told to help. Makes my life easier. Beer, Chuck? And what can I get you, Miranda?" Devon was falling all over himself being 'nice' and doing a good job of looking like a total spaz.

"I'll have wine if there's a bottle open, beer if not." She wasn't much of a drinker as her partner could attest to. She'd needed a lot of liquid courage to pull the stunt she did in Baltimore but it had been so worth it. She had him and wasn't going to let go. She'd told her mother outright that she'd met the man she was going to marry and that she could retire her match-making tools for good.

Ellie came in from the kitchen wiping her hands on a dishtowel and smiled at the couple. Yes, she could see right away that they were a couple and she was so happy for her brother and for the two of them. She'd worried so much about him after Walker left so abruptly but he'd done something right in another life and now he had her.

"Hi, I'm Ellie, Chuck's sister and the bane of his social existence. I'm so pleased to meet you at last. Chuck has told us so much about you." She could restrain herself no longer. EllieJoy erupted and she hugged the taller woman and whispered, "He's so happy. Please, please, don't hurt him."

Miranda was taken back by Ellie's comment. She looked at her Charles over his sister's shoulder and saw what she meant. He was happy and she apparently was the reason. She looked at Ellie and smiled then hugged her back and whispered, "Never."

After dinner, Chuck looked at Miranda who nodded. "Ellie, Devon, we have something to tell you. It's about…" He got no further. Ellie started to squeal in delight while Devon just got a big grin on his face. It took Chuck a few seconds to put two and two together and he interrupted her squeals with "No, no, not that. At least not yet. Now, it's not what you think. Yes, we're a couple but there's more to it than that." He took Miranda's hand in his and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"Ellie, Devon, you cannot ever tell anyone what I'm going to tell you. Ever. It could mean a lot of bad things could happen. Very bad. End-of-the-world bad. I need your promise, both of you."

"What's this about, Chuck? I mean are you guys…"

"Spies. Charles is trying to tell you that we're spies. We work for the National Security Agency, the NSA. We met at agent training. Actually, 'spies' is an exaggeration. We work in 'deep analysis', and we know things that bad people want to know too, or don't want us to know at all. So we're very hush-hush about our jobs. Please, for our sakes, don't ever tell anyone about what we actually do? We're just programmers for the NSA if anyone asks, OK?"

Both nodded their heads. "So this isn't really real? This thing between you? Chuck, is it 'complicated'?" Ellie's voice was laced with concern. Sarah Walker was a spy! That explained so much. It _was_ complicated.

"Ellie, this thing between your brother and I…it's very real. There's nothing phony about it. We're NSA partners and we're a couple outside of the job."

"And Ellie? John Casey is our boss. Colonel-designate John Casey, USAF is attached to the NSA. Yes, Buy More John."

The rest of the evening was spent talking about everything but the 'Sarah Walker Period' of Chuck's involvement with the NSA.

They were horrified at some of the tales they were told about training and tickled about some of the others. Chuck's 'Alaska Experience' topped the laughter charts. Ellie could not imagine her brother walking around in thigh deep snow carrying a 100-lb pack or either of them parachuting from a plane in the dark or learning to scuba dive and then actually have to experience drowning. That freaked Ellie out and she saw that it had really left its mark on the couple. They both were holding hands and their knuckles had turned white when they related that part of the story.

She looked at her brother, the spy, and saw a familiar stranger. He'd grown up in 3 months and become more than she'd ever thought he'd be. And he had someone by his side to help him through it all. She'd been so very wrong about Sarah Walker and now she hoped she wasn't wrong about Miranda Dawson.


	7. Nukes Doubts Ring Armadillo Shoot Out

TheGame6

_**Heaven bent to take my hand**_ – "Fallen" Sarah MacLachlan

* * *

**Wizard's Den  
NSA-LA**

"I'm telling you, Casey, those nukes are in-bound to Long Beach and I don't care that the Coast Guard inspected '_The Rodina'_ at sea. They are on that freighter. Two 5-kiloton tactical nukes that the Russians 'lost' in the Ukraine. I'm not wrong, John. Not about this. And if I am, what harm is there in requesting Customs to do an inspection? The cargo is barley meal, so it's not like they have to inspect a couple hundred containers."

"I'll run it by Beckman and she'll coordinate with Treasury and Homeland Security but I think it's a bust, Chuck. I know you flashed on the 'chain of evidence and possession' thing but the nukes must have been left behind at one of the waypoints on their route as the CIA suspects. The USCG checked and there was no sign of radiation."

"Casey, unless the warhead casings have cracked, there shouldn't be any enormous radiation reading. You have to be within 10 meters. And even then it's minimal. That ship is 800 feet long with a 140-foot beam. There's no way they got into the barley meal. It's there and it's going to bake that barley in a nuclear firestorm if we don't find it."

"Calm down, Chuck. You made your case, now let the system work."

**Port of Long Beach  
Bulk Carrier Facilities  
Long Beach, CA**

Three days later the team gathered to watch as _The Rodina's _cargo was unloaded into railcars for shipment across the US to processing plants in the Midwest. Each railcar was physically inspected and given a clean bill as if was filled.

"Well, Charles, you can't win them all. Even you misinterpret things occasionally, honey, so don't get all moody on us now. You can only interpret flashed data that's provided. Maybe the taskforce missed an off-load or blew it from the beginning and they never were on the bulk carrier."

"Maybe you're right, Miranda. But from what we were given, the nukes should have been on the freighter. It makes sense. The Jihadists have never boasted of a strike without it occurring or being discovered and stopped. Never. They don't bluff."

She ran her fingers across his cheek and then smiled the soft one that meant so much to him. "No one is perfect, Charles. Not even my partner. Close, but not perfect."

"I don't know about you guys, but I'm hungry. Let's grab something and head back to the Den. I'll report to Beckman and Graham on our lack of findings. They won't be as happy as they'd be if we found something but we can't create evidence. Now, seafood or fast food? I'm starving here."

While they were eating lunch Chuck noticed a young boy of four or five taking what he didn't want from his plate and smashing it against the underside of the table where it stuck among the chewing gum out of sight.

"Casey! It's outside the ship. They're hooked on underneath. Maybe welded in against the keel or something. I know I'm right. We need to look at the outer hull of that bulk carrier."

"Bartowski, just admit you're wrong this time. Quit kicking a dead horse. We blew it this time. Now, let's finish up and head back to the Den. I want to miss the traffic. Should have ordered us a chopper."

"Casey, it will only take us three hours at the most to get fitted out and then do the inspection. Humor me. If I'm wrong, I'll 'invite' you to Ellie's for Friday Feast. If I'm right, you get to tell Beckman you avoided Armageddon, Los Angeles-style."

"Fine. But _you're_ not doing any inspection. The Navy has divers specially equipped and trained for this. I'll contact the General and get her to set it up. You going to finish those fries?"

* * *

**Wizard's Den  
****NAS-LA  
****6 hours later**

Beckman was ecstatic and Graham looked like he'd just found a puppy under his Xmas tree. Chuck had been wrong. The nukes weren't welded to the hull along the keel but were welded into the wells in the hull behind the huge propellers where they created minimal drag and had minimal chance of being detached due to water pressure or cavitations. Sheets of lead foil lining the containers had successfully blocked any detection by the Coast Guard. Their timers were set to detonate after the ship refueled at Terminal Island – 6 hours from the time of discovery. The crew was taken into custody and the ship was impounded.

"Excellent work, Team. Excellent! A disaster averted. The taskforce AIC sends her congratulations also on an excellent coordination of efforts." Apparently Beckman was stuck on 'excellent'.

"The General and I have been discussing the possibility of some joint operations in Europe in the near future with the CIA-led taskforce. I feel it will be especially productive since the Agent in Charge used to be on Team Intersect and is very familiar with Agents Casey and Bartowski." Director Graham was trying to worm the CIA into the intersect project again. The way he said 'very familiar' made Miranda's skin crawl. He made it sound unsavory somehow.

Casey glanced at Chuck who gave no indication of concern. Miranda reached under the table and squeezed his hand letting him know she would support him in any way.

Casey had taken her aside once when Chuck was recovering from a download and had explained the entire 'Chuck & Sarah' issue. He'd been very blunt. _"He loved her but she played him until she realized she felt the same way and then it was too late. She was reassigned to head up this Taskforce and that was the end of it until you came alone. Mira, you've got nothing to worry about. Nothing at all."_

"General Beckman, how many nukes are unaccounted for?" Chuck asked the question no one had bothered with before.

Graham looked at Beckman who nodded. "We estimate there are a dozen or so at the most. We believe them to still be in the Ukraine since the Chechen rebel government lacks the cash or political capital to purchase more at this time."

"The Jihadists have long since outgrown any allegiance to the rebel movement in Chechnya, Director. Individuals and groups fund them with access to petrodollars. You might want to rethink your estimates and locations. The Jihadists Movement has matured as has its geopolitical objectives. Their focus continues to be on the 'Greater Satan' rather than the Russian Federation aka the 'Lesser Satan."

"I assure you, Mr. Bartowski, that the CIA has the picture well in focus and that the estimates and locations are correct. You need to remember who it is you're dealing with here, young man."

"Oh, I know exactly who I'm dealing with, Director. The same taskforce that made the suggestion that the nukes might have been left behind and were not even on the ship. We evaluate events based on factual evidence not suppositions or suggestions, Director. If we hadn't, this place here would have been throwing off 1200 rads about now and we'd be either glowing in the dark or cinders underfoot."

Graham's face darkened and the veins in his neck were distended as he fought to control his temper. General Beckman simply smiled and wished them a goodnight and not to worry about any 'joint operations' in the near future.

* * *

"Whoa, Bartowski, you sure do go for the throat. And I thought _I _hated the CIA pukes. Still and all, you might have to go abroad. You really have to learn to play nicely in the intelligence sandbox, moron." 'Moron' was said with a certain affection that had been lacking in the 'asset days'.

"He was wrong. We can't be wrong about nukes, Casey. Not when the 'pukes' aren't even sure how many are unaccounted for with any degree of certainty."

"Charles, Colonel Casey's right. You could have been a bit more tactful. We can't avoid dealing with the 'pukes' forever, y'know?"

They all laughed at her use of 'pukes'. She'd made her point without actually zinging Chuck. She'd never do anything to demean him in public. Now, in private…

**Four Months** **Later  
Thanksgiving  
Casa Bartowski**

Dinner had been one for the books. Casey ate like he wouldn't get fed until Christmas and everyone laughed when he and Morgan got into a fork fight over the last drumstick and were surprised when he let Morgan win.

"Hey, there's two turkeys so why not let him have it. It's not like I'm going to starve or anything. Ellie's already got my plate of leftovers ready." They all laughed except Morgan who looked shocked. "Ellie gave you the leftovers? Oh, man. That…" and stopped when Ellie handed him a bag full of his favorites in Tupperware and then he looked like he was going to cry.

Miranda and Chuck just laughed and said nothing. They were flying to Odessa to spend a late Thanksgiving weekend with her parents. Chuck wasn't exactly thrilled with going but he figured he'd have to meet them sometime so why not now?

Ellie stopped all conversation with an announcement. She and Devon had decided to 'split the difference' on their concerns and get married in April. She looked at Miranda and smiled; she'd agreed to be one of her bridesmaids since Chuck was going to be one of the groomsmen.

"Some smart ass told Devon to just sit me down and tell me I was possessed by the wedding planner from Hell and he did and then explained his fears for our financial stability and well, we figure, what the hell, why put it off. It's going to be smaller and low-keyed with just the people we love the most in attendance. So, everyone here is invited. Morgan, please bring a date that'll keep you reasonably occupied? And John, please come?"

"I would be delighted. I hate to eat and run, but someone has to man the fort while these two go to Texas." He took his leave, secretly pleased to be included in the 'people we love' group. It had made much easier now that Ellie and Devon were in the know.

**Odessa, Texas  
****Friday**

Miranda was driving the SUV they'd rented at the airport and was excited to be home. It had snowed the previous night and everything looked clean and white, not the usual dirty brown and for some childish reason that pleased her. Oncoming headlights glinted off the engagement ring Chuck had given her on the flight.

* * *

**Southwest Airlines  
Over New Mexico**

"_Ladies and gentlemen, the Captain has an announcement." Everyone paid attention on the small 727. The captain came on and coughed to get everyone's attention._

"_The passenger in 4A asks if the passenger in 4B would do him the honor of marrying him?" The plane got very quiet. A stewardess was standing in First Class with two Champagne flutes and the other stewardess was twisting her own engagement ring around her finger nervously._

"_Mira?" Miranda Dawson looked at her boarding pass and stared at the seat assignment __**4B**__ and then looked over at her boyfriend who was holding a diamond engagement ring between two fingers and looking on with a certain concern._

_She covered her hands in embarrassment and then unbuckled her seatbelt and pulled up the armrest between them and flipped over onto his lap._

"_**YES!"**__ Their kiss was interrupted by the captain's next announcement. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain. She said 'Yes' and is now otherwise occupied." The roar of applause and laughter made her hide her face in his neck but she held her hand out and he slipped on the ring._

"_Thanks, Mira, for everything. I love you."_

**Dawson Residence  
****Odessa, Texas**

Rachel and Howard Dawson were typical Texans, big-hearted, friendly and welcoming. Chuck felt at home within minutes. Of course the big news was Chuck's 'airplane proposal' and her acceptance. Both her parents oohed and ahhed over the ring but her father had fixed Chuck with a stare and then offered him a beer.

"Let's you and me have a talk, Charles. And a beer or five. I need to know about you since you're fixin' to carry off my Mira to California. When you plannin' on getting' hitched?"

"We haven't discussed a date yet. I just asked her tonight. I had planned to wait and talk with you but, I don't know, I had to have her answer. I love her, Mr. Dawson, and I can't imagine life without her. It's just that simple."

"Well, good. That's the way it should be. Now, you one of these secret agents, too? I already know Mira works for the NSA as a 'deep analyst' whatever the hell that is. You work with her, too?"

"Yeah, we actually met in agent training in Maryland. She's incredible, Mr. Dawson, absolutely…incredible."

"Yeah, I know. So, Charles, what are you plans? Gonna stay a 'deep analyst' forever?" He stared at Chuck, willing him to tell him what he needed to hear.

"I'll stay as long as she wants to stay. We do important work and what we do keeps Americans safe. Can't ask for a higher calling unless you're a soldier or a minister. We'll figure out what to do when she tells me she's ready to move on. Until then, we're partners."

They talked for another hour and then Howard Dawson shook Chuck's hand and welcomed him to the family. "Y'know, the last guy who came here to talk to me about my Mira was gone in about 10 minutes. Nasty guy, too. All stuck on himself. Now, he didn't want to marry her, just was doing some 'background' stuff for the 'Agency'. That was right after she got out of Agent School or whatever you call it. Smarmy fellow named Bryan or Brad or something. Glad to see she found a real guy to marry, not some Ivy League asshole. Now, the women are going to think I killed you and buried you under the barn. Let's see how they're doing, son. Don't want Rachel pissed off. She's a hellion."

Chuck had trouble falling asleep. She was in her own room although she'd insisted her parents were 'fine with us sleeping together'. Chuck didn't think it was right, not in this house with these people. It wasn't their lifestyle but it was their 'little girl'.

Rachel Dawson had insisted on showing Chuck every embarrassing photograph she could fine of her daughter and Chuck loved every minute of it. It was obvious that she'd come from a loving home and Chuck wished he'd been part of her earlier years. They'd missed so much time together.

* * *

His door creaked open and Mira slipped in and pulled back the covers and slid in beside him. Before he could say anything she covered his mouth with hers and nothing much was said for a while.

Mira went back to her own room about 5am. They'd finally slept but she promised him that she'd be back early. She had plans for him for the morning. In the afternoon they were going to have a delayed Thanksgiving dinner and Chuck would meet some of their relatives, neighbors and some of her old friends.

* * *

**Brittan's General Store & Bootery  
****Odessa, TX**

Rachel and Howard were all smiles when Chuck came down dressed for the day. Rachel made a big thing out of giving him a hug and coffee and then yelling up the stairs for Mira to 'get her fanny out of the bathroom'.

She came down and sat at the table, snagging a piece of Chuck's toast and telling her parents that she was going to go buy Chuck and early Christmas present – a pair of Armadillos. They both laughed when Chuck choked on his coffee. He had visions of two armadillos running around the Condo in Venice. He started laughing and told them of his sudden flash and they just looked at each other.

"Son, Armadillos are boots. Tony Lama Armadillos are top notch. Now, you don't wear them to work but just for special occasions, like Thanksgiving. And Mira, you tell old Crosby Brittan that I need to see him at the bank on Monday."

Mira could hardly stop laughing at Chuck and his reaction to Armadillos. She'd planned on getting him a pair and take a chance on the fit but now she had his feet, she'd do it right.

Chuck was amazed at how comfortable the boots were. They provided support and comfort, something his regulation NSA footwear didn't. $430.00 later Mira handed him a box with his boots in it and dragged him out the door and walked right into Cody Brittan, the owner's son. Chuck flashed and Mira hugged him to cover it.

"Sorry, Cody, we didn't see you. Weren't looking, really. Let's go, sweetie. Mom said 11:30 at the latest."

Once they got in the SUV she turned to Chuck and waited.

"Shit, Mira, I'm sorry. I can't control the flashes, you know that. He's suspected of running guns down to Mexico and bringing back dope, specifically cocaine. We can't let this go unreported. He's 'a person of interest' in the killing of an undercover DEA agent and Mexico has warrants out for him for trafficking. I have to call Beckman."

"I know, Charles…Chuck. Damn, we're on vacation. I should get to call my boyfriend 'Chuck', I keep forgetting. I already told my dad. My mom prefers 'Charles' because it's sophisticated. Go figure. Call Beckman, sweetie. It's our job. Y'know, I don't like how he looked at us. Maybe he thinks we're DEA?"

She laughed. People around here thought she was crazy for joining the Army and now the rumor was she was DEA or Customs. Her mother had laughed when she told her. She said the best one she'd heard was that she was 'a spy for the gummint'.

They left Sunday. Cody Brittan was killed Monday in a shoot-out with DEA agents and the Texas Rangers.


	8. Surplus of Sadness

The Game 7

_**It's the bitter taste of losing everything  
**__**That I have held so dear  
**_"**Fallen" Sarah MacLachlan**

* * *

**Wizard's Den  
****NSA-LA  
****May 5**

Miranda Dawson had a headache. On a scale of one to ten it was a thirteen. She woke up with it and the damned thing just wouldn't go away. Advil helped a little but the pounding behind her eyes and the pressure wouldn't go away.

"Charles, I'm going to run up to medical and see if I can get something for this damned headache. I'll be back in a jiffy, honey, and then we'll head on home. I love the weekends here. There's so much to do and I get to share it with my sweet baby."

She kissed him on the cheek and then left the Den for the 3rd floor and the medical unit.

"So, Agent Bartowski, you and the Imp set a date yet?" Casey had started calling her 'Imp' after she started pulling some Bartowski moves on missions. 'Imp' was short for imposter. It was a joke that stuck.

"No, Colonel Casey, we haven't. Every time we start to talk seriously about it either something comes up or she deflects – and you don't want to hear about that in any graphic detail." It bothered Chuck that she wouldn't even talk about getting married in terms of even 'next year'. It made him wonder if he'd moved to fast.

Chuck didn't know it but Casey and Miranda had talked about it several times and the problem was that she didn't think he was ready to marry. She didn't doubt for one minute that he loved her; her concern was that she didn't think he loved her enough. Not when he still talked about _her_ in his sleep, sometimes called her _that name_ by accident and never noticed, and not when she noticed he was still tracking certain types of blondes in crowds.

"Well, Chuck, you need to sit down and ask her _why_ she's reluctant to commit to a date. Maybe she has good reasons. More likely, she has dumb reasons and just needs to be reassured of some things. Hell, don't ask me…" The internal phone interrupted him.

"Colonel Casey." The other party spoke for a minute and then Casey hung up the phone.

"C'mon. We need to get to medical. Something's happened to the Imp."

"What? What did they say?" Chuck was talking as they ran down the corridor to the elevator.

"I don't know. The doc's still examining her but she lost consciousness and is in trouble. That's all I know, Chuck." He lied. How do you say 'Your fiancé has had a stroke or something and she's dead?' to someone like Chuck or anyone else for that matter?

A nurse met them at the elevator and directed them to a treatment room. Three doctors and assorted nurses were working on his Mira. Alarms sounded from various pieces of equipment and one of the doctors saw them in the doorway and shouted, "Get them out of here, now!"

**Evergreen Cemetery  
****Odessa, TX  
****May 9**

Casey stood beside Chuck Bartowski and his sister and Devon stood on the other side. Chuck had barely slept since the doctor had told him that Miranda had suffered a stroke, most probably from an aneurysm, most likely congenital and present since birth, and had gone very quickly and painlessly. It was small consolation to him but he hung on to it. His Mira was dead and he was alone. And he hadn't cried, not a single tear.

Ellie was crying enough for the both of them. Devon had made her take a Valium before the funeral. He was more worried about his brother-in-law. He hardly spoke and when he did it was with the fewest possible words. He was walking around in a daze and hadn't slept. Devon knew from his Psych rotations that Chuck would either snap out of it and grieve or he'd keep withdrawing into himself until he disappeared. The inability to sleep was a sure sign that something was seriously wrong. He needed to sleep and then to grieve.

Howard and Rachel had asked that he speak at her funeral service but he had refused, gently. He told them he couldn't do it. He also declined staying in their home rather than a hotel. He said it was just too painful being surrounded by her and not be able to…and then he stopped talking and walked away.

Casey had relieved him of his service weapon and had spoken to General Beckman about his 'mental condition'. Beckman had been sympathetic but had stressed that Casey needed to get him back in the field and keep him busy until a new partner could be found for him. Casey asked about bereavement leave and Beckman refused. They weren't married. It didn't apply here. Get him back in the field.

**Wizards' Den  
****NSA-LA  
****June 28**

Chuck had slept little the previous night. He had begun sleeping in the detention cell and the mattress left much to be desired. He was waiting on new quarters to be assigned and he'd pissed off almost everyone but Casey when he insisted on a 2-bedroom condo or apartment. He couldn't stay in his old condo. Their old condo. She was everywhere and nowhere and it killed him to be there.

If he had to have a cover girlfriend it would be just that, pure cover. He'd learned the lesson Walker had tried to teach him almost three years before: no emotional entanglements. He was fast on his way to perfecting it and like everything he did, he'd do it better. No emotions at all.

He and John Casey became regular fixtures at the Friday Night Feast at Ellie and Devon's new home. It was the only time he bothered with his family. He only did it because Casey had insisted and had resorted to 'escorting' him there.

Devon tried to talk to him about seeing a grief counselor but he told him he was fine and if Devon brought it up again he'd just eliminate Fridays from his 'social calendar'. Devon discussed it with Casey who told him that he'd get Chuck a 'company shrink' as soon as one could be found who'd put up with his antics.

Chuck was reviewing the intel collected and forwarded to him for 'deep analysis' when the large plasma monitor lit up and General Beckman's face greeted him.

"Agent Bartowski, prepare for overseas deployment. You and Colonel Casey will be briefed en route and you will meet your new partner. Your deployment will end when the last of those nukes is found or accounted for. And Agent Bartow- Chuck, please remember you're an NSA agent and play nice with the CIA."

"Yes, ma'am. Prepare to deploy for an extended period, briefing on route, new partner will handle the briefing. Our weapons or theirs, General?"

"Take what you need. The plane will be your team's for the duration. And Chuck, I'm sorry to throw you to the wolves so soon after Mir…"

"Fine, General. We'll get it done. You can count on us. Um, what's the partner's name?"

"A transfer from another agency but one you're familiar with. Carina Hansen has joined the NSA for the duration of this deployment. Further service to be determined. But Agent Bartowski, she is your partner, whether you like it or not. Understand?"

"I have not problems with Carina, General. She'll be very useful. She'll give Colonel Casey someone to do rather than looking over my shoulder. Is there anything else, General Beckman?"

"No, Agent Bartowski, there's nothing else. Written orders will follow within the hour."

She was now as concerned as Casey. This wasn't the man who'd walked out of the Denali, who'd demanded a physical search of the nuke carrier and who had told the Director of Operations for the CIA to fuck off and do his job. Now she wondered if she should have listened to Casey in the first place. She'd been correct to agree to accept Hansen. If anyone could bring this man back to life it was Hansen. She'd have to prepare her and authorize extreme measures. And no handcuffs.

**Wizard's Den  
****NSA-LA  
****May 29**

Casey walked into the Den just in time to hear Chuck read the riot act to some poor clerk.

"Look, how smart do you have to be to understand that two bedrooms was on the requisition? TWO! And I don't care about your stupid damned rules. When I get back I'd better have a two-bedroom condo or apartment and preferably one with two, that's one more than one, bathrooms, understand me, Ms. Sanchez? Make it happen." He slammed down the phone and muttered, 'Stupid bitch'.

"I got the orders and we leave Saturday so you'll have to tell Ellie and Devon you'll be deploying overseas for a while. Don't want them worrying unnecessarily, do you?"

Beckman had called him last night and filled him in on her conversation with Chuck and her concerns. She finally realized he was hurting and not grieving and that putting him in the field might be a mistake.

"_You watch over him like a mother hen, Colonel Casey, and see to it he's safe and out of danger at all times. I hate this deployment with the CIA but the Intelligence Committee overrode my concerns. And make damned sure Hansen doesn't make things worse, understand? Some 'Good Samaritan' on the Committee thought a 'friendly face' would do him good. She'd sleep with a snake if it caught her fancy and my asset is not to be harassed!"_

"Wouldn't want that at all, Colonel Casey. At least you'll get one more meal before going native."

**Andrews AFB  
****Washington, DC  
****July 5**

They boarded their government Gulf Stream liveried in the colors of an international charter airline and met with Agent Carina Hansen for a briefing. She'd been prepped by General Beckman and again by Director Graham on the situation facing the Team.

Beckman's brief had been simple, after the mission specifics. "Agent Hansen, get in, get it done and get out. And don't mess with Bartowski's head. He just lost his partner and he isn't adjusting to the new situation well."

"Do nothing, and I mean abso-fucking-lutely nothing to exacerbate the situation if you wish to remain part of the NSA. Your job is more 'mental bodyguard' than partner. He shouldn't be in the field yet but the situation is dire."

Graham's briefing was even simpler. "Find those nukes and then get out of my operations area. And keep that freak away from my agents. He should have been put down a long time ago. One day we'll make the Intersect work the way it should and then Beckman's Golden Boy will be the first order of business."

She'd been shocked when she first saw Chuck after nearly three years. She would swear on a stack of Bibles that her uterus twitched when she saw him coming down the aisle. He'd bulked up and looked so good in his Armani suit and…cowboy boots? But as he came closer she saw his welcoming smile didn't reach his eyes and instead of the warm brown she'd remembered, they were dark and stormy.

She looked at Casey and smiled. He returned her smile warily. She glanced towards Chuck and he made a 'wait' motion and so she just gave them both a hug and then got down to business. She would figure out a plan of action once she got Casey alone and talked with him. She began her briefing.

"OK. The CIA doesn't want us but the Intelligence Committee overrode Graham's objections and so here we are on our way to Romania. Our operational base is in the Embassy in Bucharest but there are several operations bases in other countries that we can stage out of once we locate the nukes. Chuck, that's our job. Analyze the situation and pinpoint a general area for the CIA pukes to work and search. Questions?"

"Are we subordinate to the CIA Agent in Charge or are we operating as an independent team? The last time we worked with them we almost lost Los Angeles. I'll bet Graham's still smarting over that."

Carina looked at Casey for an explanation.

"Well, the CIA figured the nukes might not have been on the ship they'd originally identified and wanted to suspend the operation in Long Beach. Bartowski had a bug up his ass and wouldn't let them quit searching the ship. The Coast Guard had come up empty and then Customs sifted through a million tons of barley meal and found nothing."

"Then we were sitting down eating lunch and he starts raving about how they're 'outside' the ship, probably welded in containers to the hull. He was right. Then he chewed Graham out for faulty intel and the rest is ugly history."

"Still trying to turn the tide, eh, Chuck?" She didn't mean it in a bad way. She was really impressed.

"No, Agent Hansen. I've finally learned my lesson." Those were the last words he'd spoken until shortly before landing. He'd pretended to sleep to avoid her inevitable questions.

* * *

Carina and Casey headed back to the galley area for coffee and she started her assault. "What happened to him, John? What happened to the delightful guy from the Buy More? What have you done to him? He's a walking corpse for Christ's sake. I've seen dead men with more personality."

"He lost his partner, Carina. She had a stroke. She was only 27. They'd been together through the Academy. They'd gotten engaged in November and she died in May. He died shortly thereafter. Believe it or not, he's better now than he was a month ago. At least now he sleeps a few hours a night and interacts. For the first few weeks he couldn't put a sentence together."

"What? He cried like he used to over Walker? What?"

"He never cried. Not one tear that anyone ever saw. He hardly slept for the first week and refused to go home until Ellie and Devon cleaned out all her stuff and shipped it off to her folks. Then he put all his stuff in storage and moved into one of the detention cells. He hasn't grieved but he's still incredibly sharp so the job will get done. He'll just leave a lot more bodies behind than usual and won't care at all if one of them is his."

"We'll have to make sure that doesn't happen, Colonel. Not on my watch."

**Bucharest, Romania  
****Hotel Metropol  
July 7**

Sarah Walker was sitting in the bar at the Metropol nursing her second drink of the evening waiting for the NSA team to arrive. Graham had warned her that Beckman's 'Freak' was headed her way with two handlers and that she was the Agent in Charge and that she 'should get them in and out' of _his_ operation as soon as she could. _Cooperation_ was optional. Politics.

She was pleasantly tired after a delightful weekend with her Romanian liaison in the countryside. The early summer was a beautiful time of the year in Romania.

Carina and John Casey walked into the bar after being directed there by the desk manager when they registered. Chuck said he would be down shortly but wanted to use 'facilities that weren't bouncing around underneath me'. The last leg of the flight had been very turbulent. Even an experienced pilot like Casey had been uncomfortable.

"Well, John, look who we have here?"

Sarah smiled and saw their reflection in the mirror behind the bar. "Let's move to a table where we can talk," and directed them to a corner table with a view of the doorway so she could watch for the missing member of the team. The one she wanted to see very badly. It had been such a long time and she wondered if he'd changed much or would think she had?

"It's good to see you, John. And you too, Carina. It's been how long?" She set a small electronic device she'd taken from her purse onto the table. "You never can be too careful."

"More than two years, Walker. You're looking well. I take it the European life style agrees with you?" In fact, Casey thought she looked tired and worn and the two years had been hard on her. There were stress lines in the corners of her eyes and mouth.

"I hate it here but this is where the job is. Weekends and holidays are nice. There's a lot to see and do. The people are nice and our liaisons with the three governments are excellent people. We've made excellent progress lately on locating the items missing from the package." Some things you just didn't mention by name in public. Like nukes.

Casey noted that her eyes strayed frequently to the bar door, a heavy oak and glass affair that looked like it would take two men to open.

"He probably won't be coming down, Sarah. He's tired after…the trip and it was rough flying from Paris. When is our formal briefing-in?"

"Tomorrow morning. I'll introduce you to the British and French representatives. The German liaison has been called home for 'talks' meaning they're probably going to be pulling out. We'll meet at the Embassy about 9am if that's OK?"

"Well, that's it for me. I'll see you here in the lobby at 7:30, Carina. I'll drag Chuck out of bed and meet you there. It was good seeing you again, Walker." He walked out of the bar, his drink untouched.

"Same old Major Casey, NSA. Still has the stick up his ass. So what are you doing here, Carina? You and John partners or handlers?" Her curiosity was piqued.

"Neither. John's a colonel now and he's the AIC of the Wizards, well, Team Intersect. I'm Chuck's new partner."

"You? What happened to his old one? He run her off with his whining?" She was being a bitch and didn't know why.

"She died. He took it hard, very hard. He's…I don't know, he's like Casey a lot now. He's hard and distant. And he's sad, deep down inside where it can't be reached."

"KIA? That's too bad. I suppose he blames himself? He always did take too much to heart."

"Walker, quit being a bitch and demeaning Chuck. You walked away from him. I know all about it. Casey talked to me right after you left. Asked me to be his co-handler and then withdrew the offer when Chuck gave him a better one."

"A better one? Oh, you mean when he decided he wanted to become an agent? I'll bet that one went over like a fart in church." She couldn't understand why she was being such a bitch.

Carina sighed and picked up her drink and downed it. "You know Sarah, I think you need to rethink your worldview. He _is_ an agent. He saved Los Angeles and he's found all the nukes that have made their way to the US. And he's the one who pinpointed the locations on the few you've found here in Europe."

Sarah was becoming surly and she didn't need to be lectured by a slut like Carina. "So, you're his new bed warmer after the other one got iced? You always did have a thing for losers and leftovers."

She never saw it coming. Carina's open palm connected and almost knocked her out of her chair.

"She died of a stroke at 27. They were engaged. He's wrecked because of it. All the women in his life leave him one way or another. Hear me, Walker, and hear me good. Stay away from my partner. I know about your phone calls to Casey. It's too late. I'm his partner and I'm going to keep him at a safe distance from all harm including _me_ but especially you." She picked up her purse and stormed out of the bar angry with herself for losing her temper.

The bartender politely ignored her tears as he refilled her drink. It was a slow night and he knew she'd be here until closing time. She did that frequently. Sat at this very same table and drank and quietly cried while rebuffing anyone who approached her. Things must be very bad at the American Embassy. Very bad indeed, if the cultural liaison cried to herself. Perhaps America was not such a happy country after all.


	9. We All Wear Masks Hiding From Redemption

The Game 8

**_And there doesn't seem a way to be redeemed_** "Fallen" – Sarah McLachlan

* * *

**Bucharest, Romania  
****Hotel Metropol**

Breakfast was relaxed and the 3 team members discussed everything but their meeting with the AIC the previous evening in the hotel bar. Chuck didn't care. He had a job to do and then he had…nothing. And that was the problem he faced. All he had now was the damned job. It simply wasn't enough to fill his life now that Mira was gone. He glanced down at his boots and smiled remembering their laughter over his misunderstanding about the 'Armadillos'.

"Well, Chuck can still smile. What's so funny, Chuck? Care to share?" Carina was anxious to keep him smiling. Anything was better than sitting with the glum and distant Chuck.

"Armadillos, Carina, just thinking about Armadillos."

Carina glanced down and gasped. "Chuck, those are Tony Lamas. Those are fabulous. Where'd you get them in L.A.? Are you into the 'Urban Cowboy' scene?" Chuck loved old movie references and she hoped to keep the smile on his face.

"They were a Christmas present. I was just smiling because when she told me she was giving me Armadillos…" He stopped talking and stood up and walked out of the restaurant and sat down in the lobby to wait for his mood to lighten.

Every day was hell. Every night was worse. He'd read everything he could find on grief and grieving but nothing he'd read helped. Some of it made things worse. He'd embarrassed himself again. At least he wasn't crying. He needed to stifle any emotion lest he give in and cracks appear in his 'dam' and wash him away.

Carina started to get up and follow him but Casey's hand on her forearm stopped her. "Don't. Leave him alone. He's working it out. It's just that sometimes, I don't know. Sometimes he just 'disappears' for minutes or hours and then he's fine. This is the close as I've seen him come to a break down. Just leave him alone for now. He doesn't need or want pity. He just needs time."

He was standing in the lobby staring out the large window at the people and traffic. Carina walked over and put her arm through his and smiled up at him. "Ready to go mess with the 'pukes', partner?" She'd noticed he'd 'lost' the boots and was wearing highly polished business shoes.

"Yeah. Quicker we get this done the quicker we go home. You'll like the new Wizard's Den, Carina. You can watch soaps in 5 different countries at the same time." He almost smiled at her. Soaps were her addiction and he'd discovered it and it had always been their private joke.

"Well, you better be in form, Chuck. I've already filled up my TIVO with General Hospital and Young and the Restless. I don't want to miss a second of them."

He heard a familiar growl behind him. Casey knew of and detested Carina's Soaps. "If you two are finished with your girly moment we can go. Chuck, watch your step in there. We don't have home field advantage."

They walked the block to the Embassy and Chuck spent the entire time watching the people. It was almost as if he were searching for someone. It spooked Carina and she made a mental note to ask Casey about it – until she noticed Casey doing the same thing.

"You see her, Bartowski?"

"Yeah, across the street from us walking at the same pace. Can't spot the others though. Not very good, is she?"

"We have a shadow. I don't know if she's CIA or someone else. Chuck, good job. I didn't notice her pattern at first. You did learn something at the Academy besides…yeah, you learned good." He skipped over his usual sarcastic comment about the 'Imp'. She'd have loved this place and would be babbling on about this and that. She'd have been a distraction but he'd have lived with it.

"I was wondering how long it was going to take for you two to comment on the brunette in the taupe dress with the OMG handbag. And boots! In this weather? Such a fashion faux paus."

Casey laughed but Chuck just allowed the hint of a smile. The Wizards would do all right provided the CIA pukes did their jobs.

* * *

**US Embassy  
****Bucharest, Romania  
****8:45am**

Sarah Walker left her office in the Commercial Section of the Embassy and went down 3 levels to the secure floors. The two Marines on guard at the elevator smiled at her. She'd been doing the same thing day after day for almost two years.

She keyed the secure lock on her office and went in and dumped her purse and briefcase on a chair and then went into her private bathroom to 'freshen up' and hopefully hide the signs of the previous night's binge and crying. She felt like shit but she didn't have to look like it, too. A little makeup and voila!

* * *

Outside the Embassy the trio of agents stopped and watched as their 'shadow' stopped to look into a store window. From what Chuck could see, she had an unusually intense interest in power tools. She was watching them in the reflection in the store window.

"Casey, you always tell me if I want to know something, ask." And he walked across the street dodging traffic and walked up beside the woman. She was pretty, about 25 or so and had deep blue eyes and a wide and generous mouth. He blinked but didn't flash.

"You're following my friends and I. May I ask why?" She looked at him and started to protest and then just smiled.

"I am Olivia Reese, Agent Bartowski, and I've been assigned as your protective detail and 'guide' while you're working at the Embassy. Agent in Charge Walker ordered it because of your, um, uniqueness, is the word she used. Are you unique, Agent Charles Bartowski?"

"No. But if you're going to shadow someone, at least be smart enough to hang back a bit. We picked you up near the hotel. Not good, Agent Reese." He smiled his not-quite-to-the-eyes smile.

"But you didn't locate the other 2 tails, did ya, Charles?"

"You must be from Texas. And no, we didn't. Correction, I didn't. Now, why don't you join us and explain to my colonel why we rate so highly?" He took her gently by the arm and led her across the street.

"Colonel, this is Agent Olivia Reese, CIA and part of a 3-person protective detail for us."

Casey just grunted and walked into the Embassy. Carina just rolled her eyes and said, "Bad Chuck, bad, bad, bad." She laughed and followed Casey.

"You certainly live an interesting life, Charles." And they followed the others into the Embassy.

They presented their credentials to the Marine Guard and waited for an escort. Olivia Reese quietly took her leave and then turned back to look at Agent Charles Bartowski, 29, NSA and his team. Suddenly this assignment didn't look too boring after all. The other two women on her detail were older agents who tended to look on their assets as marks not people. Olivia was too new to the Agency to understand or appreciate their perspective.

* * *

The NSA agents were escorted down to the Agency Ops Center and then run through the scanners and issued photo ID's so that they wouldn't have to be escorted when in the Embassy. Chuck noticed how professionally everything had been handled. Who would have guessed that Sarah Walker was a closet administrator?

"AIC Walker will be with you shortly. The coffee pot is through there and the 'facilities' are out the door and to the left." The agent covered the essentials of agent life and then returned to his duties.

Chuck walked out onto the floor, ignoring the stares and occasional glances as he looked at a computer-generated map of the area. The locations of the successful intercepts were marked and for the first time Chuck could see and appreciate the scope of the CIA's problem.

"Any insights, Agent Bartowski? Any 'visions' to aid us in our plight?" She sounded like a whiney shrew and she mentally cringed.

"None at the moment, AIC Walker." He turned and looked down at her and smiled his best post-Mira smile. "Hello, Sarah. How have you been? You look tired." His soft voice and sincerity cut her like a knife and she wished she could take back her previous comments or at least the tone of them. His smile was different, not forced but not the easy 'hello, Sarah' smile she remembered receiving in Burbank.

"So do you, Chuck. It comes with the job. At least I can use makeup to hide it. You can't." She spoke softly, remembering other times he'd voiced his concern for her.

"We all wear our masks, Sarah." He needed to stop this. Now. He needed to get back to 'now'. 'Chuck & Sarah' no longer mattered. She had made her choice and time had shown it to be the right one.

She was startled by his insight and touched by his sudden understanding. _'Maybe not so sudden.'_

"Can you mark the intercepts in sequence, please?" She nodded an 'OK' to an analyst who entered some keystrokes and the intercept points appeared to blink in sequence.

Casey and Carina walked over and stood behind Chuck, not between him and Walker but behind and to the side. No one wanted to interrupt the intersect at work. As if remembering what he was, Chuck reached into his coat pocket and withdrew dark sunglasses, reflective aviators. A needed affectation if he flashed.

"What kind of vehicles were they using? Were they in convoy or alone?"

"I don't know. Let me check. Why? Is it important?"

"Might be, Sar – Agent Walker. Won't know until I know, though." She noted that 'Sarah' was gone and 'Agent Walker' was back. She took a file folder from an analyst and read through it quickly.

"The first 3 intercepts were Ukrainian Army trucks, older Russian models, the last 3 were civilian farm trucks, stake trucks like you'd find on a farm. They were reported stolen from an old collective that had been turned over for private use."

"The same collective?"

"No, two separate ones."

"Can you plot them for me on your big-assed map and magnify, please?" The analyst at the workstation chuckled and the image zoomed in.

"Hey, Colonel Casey, you did some work in the Ukraine. What kind of trucks would they be using, the military ones, I mean?"

"Probably Skodas. Troop carriers like our old 'deuce and a halfs'. Two and a half ton capacity. Diesel, rugged but not good off-road."

Chuck flashed and got the entire inventory of SkodaWorks dumped into his brain. He sorted through it until he found what he wanted. He cringed knowing how much this was going to hurt. They always hurt. He just never said anything before.

"Were they carrying fuel drums or fuel bladders, Sa- I mean, um, Agent Walker?" She checked the file folder and told him no. Just crates of assorted military surplus equipment for sale through legitimate sources.

He glanced at the analyst and asked him to 'draw a circle around each intercept with a radius of 220km. His eyes were burning and he felt like his head was going to explode. He swayed a bit and Sarah grabbed his upper arm to steady him. She knew he was flashing. Her 'inner girl' told her he'd bulked up, too.

"Were all the intercepted vehicles traveling northwest to southeast on the highway, Agent Walker?"

"Yes. We figured they were headed to a port of embarkation about 150km or so from the point of intercept. That's only a guess, Agent. We have no factual evidence to support that conclusion." Casey chuckled. She must have been told what Chuck told Graham after the Long Beach incident.

"Please reduce the radius of the inscribed circle by half and add military installations within the area of the new circle." He spoke through clenched teeth. It felt like someone was peeling his skull back and pushing on his brain. Now Sarah and Carina were openly supporting him and someone went to get a chair. It was obvious that he was in some sort of difficulty and only Casey knew the price he paid when he deep flashed for analysis like now.

He steeled himself for what was to come. He flashed on the listing of all Soviet and Federation active and inactive military installations in the Ukraine. It felt like someone was pouring sand into his eyes. He grunted and homed in on those within the targeted area.

There it was. Vlandiski Military Training Base. Suspected storage location of Soviet Scud and Frog missiles and warheads. Suspected storage location of chemical and biological warheads as well as tactical nukes.

"There. Where – where the - circles intersect. Vlandiski Military – Base. Warhead storage. Supposedly ab – abandoned. That's where…"

He grunted again as another wave of pain gripped him and without conscious thought he flashed on Mira's file – the intersect update he'd downloaded right before leaving for Europe. She'd lived seven minutes and had been in and out of consciousness. The list of actions taken scrolled across his mind and he knew. It hadn't been quick nor had it been painless. She'd died alone and in horrible pain. It was the last straw and it broke him.

He whirled on Casey and grabbed the startled man by the throat. "You lied to me, John. She was in pain! It wasn't quick like you said. It was long and horrible and she was in such agony. And she died alone, without me! You bastards all lie!"

Someone hit the panic button and suddenly the room was swarming with agents and Marines. Carina and Sarah were prying at Chuck's fingers as he tried to crush Casey's throat. He was oblivious to the blood from his nose and ears. Finally a Marine hit Chuck with a stun gun and it was over.


	10. Final Arrangements Finding Peace

Agency Ops Center  
**US Embassy  
****Bucharest, Romania  
****3 Days after the 'incident'**

The General and the Director were pleased with the overall results of the mission. All but one of the tactical nuclear warheads had been recovered and returned via secure means to the Russian Federation. The combined assault forces of the Federation and NATO had destroyed specific quantities of 'chemicals and biologicals' on-site. Considering the recent invasion of Georgia by Federation troops, it was not even a blip on the radar. The Ukraine had not even acknowledged the incursion.

"Major Casey, how soon will Agent Bartowski be able to travel? What have the doctors said? I've read their reports but it's all 'if' and 'possibly'. What have they told you?"

"General, he had a minor stroke – they refer to it as a 'cerebral event'. Everyone associated with the intersect operation knew it was a possibility, a probability. He knew the risk and he accepted it. Every download and every flash contained an element of cumulative risk. Add to that the recent events in his personal life and it was inevitable. He knew the risks, General, and he accepted them."

"Well, we now have Version 2.4 up and running. It's slow as hell and cannot make intuitive leaps like the Freak could, but it's a lot more secure…and it behaves itself." Director Graham smirked. He'd hated Bartowski with a passion. He was undisciplined and lacked the smallest shred of self-control. And he was dangerous.

There was a collective gasp at the crude reference to the unconscious agent. Casey was impassive but raging inside. Carina wondered where he lived and Sarah was as impassive as Casey. She hadn't been involved to the extent Casey had and hadn't known of the risks until now. She was still processing the information but deep inside she was sickened with grief and shame.

"I want Agent Bartowski home as soon as possible. Walter Reed is standing by with the best neurological specialists we have. Bartowski is an amazing man, not a freak by any measure. He deserves the best his country can provide."

"Agent Walker, how soon can air transport be arranged for Bartowski and his team?" Graham had been stung by Beckman's tone and comment. At least he could appear to be a team player. Bartowski was out of the game so he now had the upper hand. The NSA was going to have to beg for any intel in the future. And his employers would dictate what kind of intel they received.

"As soon as the doctors say he's stable."

The videoconference ended on that note.

* * *

**Interlude  
****Bucharest, Romania  
****Hotel Metropol**

Sarah Walker sobbed into her pillow. He'd been in pain every time he'd flashed and Casey had told her later that the downloads were so painful that he always lost consciousness afterward. He'd never said anything, ever. He just did it because he had to, not because he wanted to.

'_Oh, God, don't let him die. I'm so empty since leaving him. I told him he should give the bracelet to the woman he was going to marry and he said he had. And I made him take it back. How much more did he need to show me, to give, before I finally accepted my fate? I loved him, I love him. I've always loved him and now… He needs someone and so do I. We're fated lovers and I am going to find a way back to him and what we had…if it's not too late. Can there be an 'us'? Why not.'_

* * *

John Casey rarely thought about anyone else but John Casey. Or John Casey and the mission. Or John Casey and the Team. John Casey never considered the feelings of others. It wasn't his thing. So why didn't he break the moron's wrists and break the chokehold he had on him? Was it because he knew the pain he was in would pale in comparison to the mental anguish of his young friend? Friend. When did the moron and his honey slip under the radar and become more than moron and Imp? When did they cease being annoying coworkers and become teammates and friends?

* * *

Carina Hansen sat brushing her hair the traditional 100 strokes with her brush. It was part of her routine, a calming centering of her mind after a long day and today had been long.

Chuck and his Armadillos had started the emotional roller coaster and had run loose pretty much the entire day. She'd cried when she broke two of Chuck's fingers prying them away from Casey's throat while Walker tried to break his vicious hold on John.

Walker had held him after the Marine had used the stun gun. Held him and rocked him back and forth, her cheek against his hair, indifferent to the stares of others or the tears staining her cheeks, washing away the concealer she'd used to hide the signs of her drinking and weariness. When the medics came for him she almost resisted – almost. So, Chuck & Sarah…who would have imagined it was anything more than a cover?

* * *

**Walter Reed Medical Center  
****Washington, DC  
****Two days later**

"General Beckman, I'm telling you that there is no evidence that this man has suffered any kind of cerebral event, stroke, 'disturbance', whatever you may want to call it. Whatever happened to this Agent was not a stroke. He's in excellent health. He has normal brain activity and he's awake and lucid but he has absolutely no recollection of the events you described."

"You've seen the tapes, Dr. Salvati, what do you think happened?"

"I think it was a 'psychotic break' but I don't mean he's psychotic. I don't think we have a term for it. I think he either remembered something horrible or he 'flashed' as you say, on something so disturbing to him that his mind wouldn't accept it and sent him so many conflicting 'signals' that he just had a breakdown."

"Could this happen again? Is it dangerous?"

"We don't know. I want to suggest a controlled test where he's presented the stimulus to 'flash' and then we'll monitor brain activity and see just what we can learn. It's one option and I think we owe it to him and ourselves to explore before doing something as drastic as Director Graham has counseled."

"Director Graham is not the controlling authority here. He is not to see or speak to Agent Bartowski. Any recommendation he might offer is couched in self interest, not in the best interests of this Agent."

"If he poses as great a security risk to the country as some suggest, then detention is the only other option except termination."

"Out of the question. Conduct your test. Report the results to me and only me."

* * *

**Examination Room  
****Neurological Ward  
****Walter Reed Medical Center**

Chuck was strapped into a chair that looked like it belonged in a dentist's office. Electrodes in the seat and those attached to his skull led to various pieces of medical apparatus.

"Agent Bartowski, I'm going to show you several photographs in an attempt to induce a 'flash'. If you feel any pain at all I want you to tell me immediately so I can remove the stimulus from sight. Is that clear?"

"Yes. But you have to understand, there is always pain when I flash. The only variable is degree. The deeper the analysis required, the more the pain."

"Can you describe your pain?"

"Take your upper lip firmly between your thumb and forefinger and then quickly pull it over the back of your head. Then crack open your skull and press down on your brain."

"Ouch! What about the eyes? Any pain there?"

"Feels like sand in your eyes."

"Fine. We're going to begin."

The first picture was of Diane Beckman. He flashed. It hurt. He recited the flash less the code word portions.

Next came a picture of a known terrorist. He flashed, it hurt, he recited.

The doctor next showed Chuck a photograph of himself and he flashed, felt incredible pain and then flashed again and again. He read his file, saw his tests, found out where his father was, learned of his mother's death, saw photographs of his family and friends from before he was intersected. He didn't say a word. He knew. He'd always been the one to get the intersect. It had been the plan all along until Bryce got jealous and framed him.

"Agent Bartowski? Agent Bartowski? The test is over."

"No. I need one more flash. Please. I need to see a photograph of Agent Miranda Dawson. Please! I need to flash on her."

The doctor saw no reason not to have additional data and flipped through the file until he found the photo he'd requested.

Chuck flashed on her entire file. There was more to it than he'd seen earlier when he'd attacked Casey. He skipped past the medical and read the entire file. He smiled at the doctor.

"Thank you. Now I have a personal favor to ask. I need to apologize to one of my associates. Can you show me 'Sarah Walker'?

"Before I do that, I have one more photograph." He produced a photo of a satellite. Chuck flashed, his whole body convulsed once and then he relaxed. "Doctor, you do not have the need to know about that. Where did you obtain that photograph? I need to know."

"Agent Bartowski, do you know what you just saw?"

"I do now. Answer my question. Where did you get that photograph?"

"Director Graham. He wanted to know what you saw. Can you tell me?"

"Only if I kill you immediately afterwards. Now, show me Sarah Walker's photo."

Chuck flashed and really smiled for the first time since Mira was taken from him. So many questions answered. And there was no pain.

"Thanks, Doc. Get General Beckman on the line for me, please. I have news for her. And I'll need all the photographs you have in your file folder also. And you need to forget you ever saw any of them."

* * *

**NSA HQ  
****FT MEADE, MD**

Chuck Bartowski smiled at General Beckman and took the proffered seat. It was the first time he could remember ever being asked to sit in her presence.

"All right, Agent Bartowski, what do you have to discuss that couldn't be done over the phone?"

"Graham is a Soviet mole, probably placed during the late 70s and he's still dumping intel to the Russian Federation. He snuck a photograph of a Russian MIRV satellite that had been launched in the latter Soviet period as a Doomsday weapon to be used if the people revolted into the mix of flashing material. They were going to nuke their own population into submission."

He handed her the photograph and told her to look closely at the console visible in the lower portion of the photo. The labeling was all in Cyrillic. The photograph was Russian.

"Why would he do this? And how can you say such a thing with this flimsy evidence?"

"Graham's group handled the initial file load into the intersect and all subsequent data has processed through using their programs. Encoded in the first image is a code that stimulates something in the human body that causes pain. Some photographs are 'killers' like the one he provided of the satellite. Once I figured it out from reviewing images your group provided, I had to suck it up and drive on, as Colonel Casey would say. I just usually avoided the 'killers' but the Federation data I accessed in Romania was laced with it. That's why I had such a reaction to it."

"It's still not enough proof for me to go the Intelligence Committee and submit a recommendation for investigation, Agent Bartowski. It's circumstantial, at best."

"Then I suppose we'll have to wait until he learns that I've taken all the photographs from the 'test' and have turned them in as classified. That should provoke a response. To Graham, this is all a Great Game. He's a consummate chess player and he operates in the same manner. I figure he'll try and kill me just to ensure I haven't 'seen' something in the flash that will incriminate him. And he'll go after my team and probably the people in the Ops Center in Romania as well just to be certain."

"These are serious charges with little to back them up. I can't proceed on the basis of such flimsy evidence. I'm sorry."

"Fine. We'll just wait until agents start dropping like flies. But you can at least have your analysts review the coding in the intersect, can't you? The information in version 2.4? It should be tainted also."

"I'll consider it. For now, consider yourself on convalescent leave. Return in two weeks. Call me and only me if you 'flash' on any data to support your charges."

He removed an envelope from his coat pocket and placed it and his ID and shield on the General's desk. His pistol was a personal possession and he kept it. He knew she wouldn't believe him. On her head be it.

* * *

**Dawson Residence  
Odessa, TX**

Rachel Dawson hugged Chuck and cried in his arms for the first five minutes of his visit. Her father stood watching helplessly. He looked at Chuck and saw that he'd aged in the months since Mira's passing and he felt sympathy for the young man he'd hoped would be his son-in-law.

"I've come to apologize for my behavior at the funeral and before. I just couldn't deal with her being gone. I can't now, either, but I have to. I'd like to visit her grave if you don't object. I have some things to tell her and it seems that's the appropriate place to do it."

* * *

**Evergreen Cemetery  
Odessa, TX**

"I'm sorry I haven't been by to visit sooner, Mira, but I've been busy feeling sorry for myself and not allowing myself to grieve for us. You were so full of life and you filled the emptiness in mine and I miss you, baby, more than I can say. I moved out of the condo. I can't be there without you. It was so 'ours' and it's so empty without you there."

He was oblivious to the tears coursing down his cheeks. He had a lot to talk with her about. And more to tell her. And a favor to ask.

He sat on the stone bench that Howard had installed so that Rachel could sit and visit with her daughter. Howard knew it was crazy but she went once a week and told her of the town gossip, family matters and world events. It was a one-sided conversation but it helped her cope with her loss and grief.

"Sweetie, I'm wearing your Armadillos. I wear them all the time. I think of you every time I wear them and remember how happy you were buying them for me. You were the best thing that ever happened to me, baby, and I just wanted you to know that I won't be by for a while but I'll always have you on my mind and in my heart. I have some business to attend to."

"You take care of yourself, baby. I'll check in on you from time to time. I think Odessa might be a fine place for me to settle down after I'm done with the Agency. You wouldn't mind, would you? We could just sit for hours and not say a word, just enjoying each other's existence. And I want to ask your folks if I can be buried here, next to you. Oh, God, Mira, what am I going to do? I miss you so damned much…"

He finally cried for his lost love and let go of all the bitterness he felt toward her for leaving him behind and alone. He'd almost hated her for leaving him, for taking away their future and crushing his hopes.

It was a different Chuck Bartowski who said goodbye to the Dawsons. He seemed almost at peace with himself. Howard told him that he was welcome anytime and that they'd be proud to share their final resting place with him but not to worry, it wouldn't be for a long time yet. Or so he hoped.

Mira had a son, Joshua, who was now 10 and who had been in boarding school since Mira had joined the Army. Rachel and Howard listened to Chuck's impassioned plea to be allowed to share in his life, to have something of Mira's alive and a part of his life. He wasn't asking to adopt him or have any custodial rights, just the right to visit him, introduce himself and keep in touch with him. They'd quickly agreed. Josh had been a concern of theirs, especially since Mira had hidden his existence from Chuck. She'd been ashamed of her earlier life but never of her son. They didn't know why she'd never told him but Chuck did and he understood and forgave her. He knew about shame and guilt.

* * *

**Valley Forge Military Academy  
****Valley Forge, PA**

Mira's parents had called the Provost Marshal and told them of Chuck's impending visit and his relationship to Josh's mother. The fact that he was a former NSA agent was grease on the rails.

He looked enough like his mom to make Chuck's eyes glisten with unshed tears. The boy was quick, like his mother, and felt at ease immediately with the tall man who told him about his mother, the secret agent. Of course, he never called her a secret agent. He called her a Special Agent of the NSA but he knew his mom was something special and this man proved it.

Chuck spent all day Sunday with the boy, walking around the school campus and then driving into town and getting pizza. They talked about everything and anything but mostly they talked about the woman whose love they shared, Mira. Chuck promised him he'd email and call and would always be available if he needed him for anything, even if it was just to talk. Josh needed someone. And so did Chuck.

**Casa Woodcomb  
****Burbank, CA**

Chuck knocked on the door of his sister's apartment, hoping the Friday Night Feast was still on their social calendar. He should have called but he hadn't. He needed someone to talk to and he had no one else he could trust to be honest with him. And for once in his life, he wanted to hear the unvarnished truth.

"Chuck!" Ellie threw herself at her brother, crying and laughing and calling for Devon all at the same time. Casey had kept her in the loop about what had happened and she'd been worried sick about him.

"You didn't call me, Chuck. I was scared to death. First Mira and then you…you didn't call…" and she started crying again.

"Not awesome, bro, not at all. But it's good to see you alive, my man, and if my wife will ever let you go, we can get inside and really talk." He smiled but Chuck knew he was pissed. Living with a scared and worried Ellie was no picnic.

He walked and realized they had guests, Casey and Carina. Damn it! "I'm sorry, I didn't realize you had dinner guests. I'm in town for a while. I'll stop by tomorrow or the next day." He peeled Ellie off his arm and started to leave but stopped on the command of "Agent, stop!" delivered in Casey's drill field voice.

He turned around and looked at his former boss. And his former partner. Shit.

"Where in the hell have you been, Bartowski? Beckman's ready to have you sanctioned. You just don't drop off the face of the earth when you're carrying around what you have in your head." Casey was pissed and it showed. He'd never mention the intersect in 'mixed' company if he was in normal mode. Chuck noticed that there were still marks on his throat and then looked away.

Carina had left the table and walked toward him while Casey had ranted. She stood in front of him and ran the palm of her hand down his cheek and smiled an uncharacteristically shy smile at him.

"I see you've come to terms with some things, Chuck. That's good." She looked down at his left hand and noted the splinted fingers. "Sorry about the fingers, Chuck, but I couldn't let you maim my man. He wasn't trying to stop you so Sarah and I did, at least until that numbskull with the stun gun hit you. Come on, partner, sit, talk. We're all friends here. What have you been up to?"

"I went to Odessa and made some arrangements with Mira's folks and then to Philadelphia, well, Valley Forge, actually, to meet someone very special. Then I came here. And I'm not your partner, Carina. I'm out of the Agency. Beckman didn't believe me so I figured 'screw it' and took my info and went home. But then I realized I didn't have a home so I made arrangements in Odessa. I'm sorry about the whole 'trying to kill you' thing, Casey, I just…I'm sorry. Ellie, I'll see you tomorrow."

"You can't resign from the NSA, moron. You're the damned intersect. Besides, someone took out most of the Ops Center in Bucharest and Carina and I have…escorts. You're the one the whole planet's been put on alert to find. We need you, Chuck. More than ever. We need to bring down Graham and we need your help. Beckman says 'please', Chuck. No shit."


	11. The Blame Game and Plots within Plots

TheGame9

The Game

**NAS-LA**

"Why is everyone staring at us, Casey?" Chuck noticed that people were looking at the three agents and then looking away and whispering.

"They're not looking at us, moron, they're looking at you. You're the one who went AWOL, pissed off one General, and then disappeared for almost two weeks without so much as a peep out of you until you show up at the end of your leave at your sister's."

"She put me on two weeks of convalescent leave so I'd have been gone any way. Big deal. You guys, I swear you all have sticks up your ass."

Carina thought that was hysterical and laughed so hard she had to run to the ladies room.

"Chuck, look. You did something that created a lot of heat and useless activity. Some people resent that you got away with it. They're wondering why you're not walking around with Beckman's virtual boot up your butt. You keep pushing the envelope with her and you'll find a hole in the ground you new home. Not Odessa. And what's with Odessa, anyway?"

"I went to talk to Mira. I had a lot to get off my chest. "

"Chuck, what do you mean you went to talk to Mira? Chuck, she's…I mean, I just don't understand."

"I went to her grave and talked. Mostly about how much I missed her, how this 'life' is so empty now, and I told her when I was done with this NSA shit I was coming back to Odessa and settle down. I got her folks to agree to let me be buried beside her. And…shit, Casey, I miss her so much. I just want to be with her and be done with all this shit. And I talked to her folks about her son. I don't understand why the kid's locked away in some military school instead of home with his grandparents and Mira when she's home. She never told me about him, Casey."

"Then how did you find out? Shit. You can flash at will, can't you?" He wanted Chuck off the subject of his dead Mira. Far off the subject. The kid was talking about dying and being with his Mira. Not a good mind set at all.

"Yep. And I fixed the hurting part mostly. Which is good. Having the entire inventory of the SkodaWorks dumped into your head is painful. Adding the Soviet and Federation military installations damned near killed me."

"Beckman's promised to scrub the files before the next download. No one knows how corrupted they are. Graham's slapped a 'need to know' label on 2.4 so we can't compare."

Chuck asked Casey the question Casey wanted desperately to avoid.

"Casey, who'd we lose in Bucharest? How many, John?"

"More than half of the operations staff, a few of the Marine guard and our protective detail. Chuck, Walker was seriously injured. She might lose her leg. She was caught when a wall collapsed. She's hurt really bad. They're going to medevac her as soon as she's stable. Crush injuries. Like 9/11. She's been unconscious since they found her."

"We found the nukes. Why wasn't she back here in the States? She shouldn't have been there." This was all his fault. If he had just held it together and not freaked out, Graham would never have suspected a thing. If he hadn't made a big deal out of the photographs, he'd never have taken out the Ops Center.

"Graham wanted to make sure things were closed down 'in an orderly fashion'. He kept them there an extra week. You told Beckman what would happen, Chuck, and she didn't listen. It's not your fault. Put your anger on hold until we have a plan to bring the bastard down. Then use it, focus it, and make it work for you."

"Casey, I killed all those people. If I'd just left the photographs with the damned doctor, he'd never have known. I had to get cocky."

"That's bullshit. Graham did it through someone else. We'll get him, Chuck. Officially, Chechen rebels retaliated for losing their crack at the nukes."

"And Sarah's going to lose a leg? Maybe die? She did a great job for Graham. Why would he strike out like that? I know, 'clean up'. But it's still my fault, no matter how you slice it."

'_Oh, shit. He's going to go off into one of his funks.' _

"Bullshit, Chuck. Those people in Bucharest were col…"

"Don't you dare call those people 'collateral damage', John Casey. Sarah Walker is not collateral damage!" He stormed off to the elevator, determined to find a way to bring Graham down, to kill him himself, if possible. He'd kill him but first he'd bring him such pain as no other human being had ever felt. All those people…

The smile that had refused to go away fled in a heartbeat when Carina saw the look on Casey's face. He was standing in the foyer looking down an empty corridor towards the elevators.

"John, I know that look. There's nothing we can do. We follow orders and our orders for now are 'stand down and do nothing'. C'mon, Colonel, let's find our young genius and have a sit-down. Maybe if we explain…"

"He's right. It was his fault. He did the right thing, the correct thing, and the results speak for themselves. He's 'damned if you do and damned if you don't'. I think we'd do better to listen to him, hear him out and see if we can at least direct that inner rage he's feeling in the proper direction."

"Why, John Casey, that was the most intelligent thing I think I've ever heard you say, other than 'Oh, God, Carina, you're wonderful.'" She nudged his ribs and smiled her special smile.

"Don't push it, Carina. And keep it down about us. Especially in front of Chuck. The Imp's still very much a part of him and I won't hurt him by rubbing us, what he had, in his face. OK?"

"Does he know about Walker? Did you tell him?"

"Yeah. That's what really set him off. I called her 'collat.."

"Oh, no. You didn't? Let's go. He's probably putting together a nuke in the Den and planning on shoving it up Graham's ass."

Casey grunted. "I think he wants something not so 'immediate' like maybe an acid bath or ants or something. The boy does have his dark side. And he went to Odessa to 'talk to Mira' and he convinced the parents to let him be buried beside her. I'm worried about him, Carina. He says he just wants to lie down beside her and be together. Creepy."

"Sounds like he's still grieving. He's young, John, and until this intersect, innocent. He's trying to adjust to a topsy-turvy world where his values don't fit. We'll keep an eye on him. Keep him focused. But you should let Beckman know how he's doing."

Chuck decided on an approach. A man in Graham's position couldn't just send an email to his 'client'; he'd have to have another way to distribute his information. Possibly a sleeper agent assigned as his handler. He set about learning as much as possible about Arthur Tyrone Graham, Director of Operations for the CIA.

* * *

By the end of the week Chuck had amassed a significant amount of data on his target. He knew his lifestyle, his bank balances, family members and close circle of friends. He knew the location of his main residence, his vacation home and a small apartment in Alexandria where he met various women unbeknownst to his wife. He even had dossiers on each of the women except for the most recent addition to his entourage, one Laura Pope, a lower-level analyst for the NSA.

Casey shook his head in amazement. When his young protégé put his mind to a task it was best just to stand back and watch. Chuck hadn't shaved in a week, slept in the detention cell, and took his meals in the facilities canteen whenever he couldn't persuade Carina to bring him in takeout. And he was very persuasive. The janitorial staff had a running joke about the Hermit in his Den. Few people saw him anymore and those who did probably wouldn't recognize him. He looked – haunted.

"Chuck, Ellie called to remind me it's Family Feast night and she warned me it would be my last if I didn't drag you there. So shower, shave and get dressed. You'll go with us, that way I can be sure you won't come back here and lose yourself in this mass of data you've assembled."

"Yeah, yeah, just a minute. I need to close out some files and then get cleaned up. Any word yet on my condo? You and Carina took the one I worked so damned hard to get. You know Ms. Sanchez hates my guts now. You guys only use the one bedroom and…argggh…TMI!"

"Move it, smart ass, or I'll tell Carina you said she's getting fat now that she's over 30."

**Casa Woodcomb  
****Burbank**

Devon was wound up and excited. His group of surgeons had been selected to run an FDA testing program on a new drug that had shown promise in reducing post-op problems with heart transplants. He had explained the program at least twice during the meal. Everyone listen politely. Only Ellie knew what he was talking about.

"Devon, tell me about this in English, not Doctorish. Sounds interesting but I don't understand all the terms, so English, please."

"Simple. Patients are divided into three groups and are administered the new drug, the current regimen of drugs, while the third group receives a placebo. Then we monitor and chart the results. We're hoping that the new drug therapy works as well as or better than the current regimen because it's cheaper and has no side affects."

"So you experiment on patients? Group 3 gets nothing that will help them?"

"They agree to it before they undergo the transplant. The drug company pays for all transplants and medicines. It's a double-double-blind. And no one but the senior staff know who gets what."

Carina saw Chuck blink and then watched a slow smile work its way across his face. _'He's on to something. Watch out, Graham. You're toast!'_

Chuck then dropped a bombshell on his family and friends.

"Mira has a son, Josh. I met him at Valley Forge Military Academy where he's been since first grade. I like him and he seems to like me as well. Mira's folks said I can visit anytime and I can even have him on his vacations. And no, I don't know who the father was, nor do I care. So, Ellie, you seem to be an almost-auntie. You'll love him. He's like Mira in all the good ways."

There were the anticipated questions and Chuck gave them the answers he'd worked out earlier. After that, it was a normal Friday night at the Woodcombs.

Carina started the second Casey put the car in gear. Chuck sat in the back, trying to stay awake after beer and all that food. "Chuck, when Devon was describing his trials you looked like the cat that ate the canary. 'Fess up, Chuck. What's going on in that mind of yours?"

"I'm going to seduce Graham's latest mistress and fill her ear with bullshit during 'pillow talk' and then when she tells him about it, and she will, we'll have him dead in our sights when he acts on it."

Carina started to laugh until she saw that Casey was nodding his head in agreement.

"What? Chuck, you're joking. Casey, tell him that's crazy."

"No, Carina, I think it's a damned good idea."


	12. The Light The Lies and the Pope

TheGame10

_A/N: I don't think this will ever see the light of day. Art imitates life and that was way too close even for me. Now this is the end of what I call Phase 1. BTW, I've met someone. She makes this old man wish for younger days. _

APR

T/N: I was going back and making sure I had the chapters right order when I saw this A/N. He met me at school when he gave a Strategic Planning seminar and I went with my then boyfriend who's an MBA wannabe. My b/f was doing some serious sucking-up for employment at the reception but I could see J wasn't listening. Oooo. A chick-flick moment as he'd say.

p.s. I forgot the lyric thing. That's my contribution. Sorry. NF.

* * *

**_And though I may seem helpless  
I will do all that I can do  
_**"Shelter" - Sarah McLachlan

**The Wizards' Den  
****NAS-LA**

The light fills the detention cell and the camera malfunctions. He looks so tired and worn. Light caresses his brown curls and then lingers on his lips.

He sighs and the light seems to waver then strengthen and passes over the sleeping man and settles down upon his chest and remains until just before he awakens. At the first stirring it disappears, almost reluctantly.

* * *

When he woke from the first really restful sleep he'd had since Mira …left him, he felt…light, like a burden had been passed on or simply dropped. Maybe it was his decision. Maybe it was simply resignation or maybe it was acceptance. It didn't matter.

Chuck slipped into the shower and then shaved. He looked better and he felt better. Maybe it was Ellie's cooking or just being with good friends and family but whatever it was, he felt human for the first time since the funeral.

He made coffee and then sat down at a terminal and typed an email request to General Beckman. He went to the kitchen and 'robbed the pot' and returned with his first of many cups of coffee and almost dropped it when he saw General Beckman on the big screen monitor on the wall.

"Well, Agent Bartowski, the plan is risky and depends upon your interpretation of this young woman's actions."

"L'audace, l'audace, toujours l'audace, mon General"

"Bartowski, you are not Georgie Patton. Not even close, so don't go quoting his autobiography to me. Now, what do your partners think of this plan? Would they believe you'd do such a thing?"

"It's well known in the intelligence community that 'Agent Bartowski is wrapped way too tight, a Freak of Nature,' and given the recent events in my life, entirely believable. Yes, Casey believes, Hansen is still undecided but then she's a woman and doesn't look at things from a man's perspective, only his lusts."

"And you think you have properly anticipated this young woman's actions after…you plant the seeds? Aren't you looking at this purely from the man's perspective just as you've accused Agent Hansen of doing?"

"She's still unsettled in her relationship with Graham and she can see benefits of having a sugar daddy high in the government ranks. She's bright but naïve about how the system really works. She'll think bringing him intel on the Freak will make him…beholden to her. Just don't fuck her over after this is resolved, General. She's only 23. If she was good enough to be hired in the first place, she's good enough to retain after someone 'corrects' her misconceptions."

"No promises, Agent. But we'll see. Now, when do you plan on beginning your 'seduction'?"

She was secretly pleased with his plan. It was audacious and coming out of left field, she was certain Graham wouldn't suspect a thing. He was much too conventional in his thinking whereas her agent was anything but conventional.

"No time like the present. I'll fly to Philadelphia today, take the weekend for some personal business then report in to Meade and 'meet her' at work. After all, she does contribute to the intersect database and I think meeting the 'Intersect' is both logical, inevitable and beneficial."

"Fine. Execute your plan but at the first hint that it's not working or of compromise, terminate your operation immediately. Understood?"

"Yes. And there's no danger of compromise on my part. None at all. I'm surprised you hadn't considered that as one of the strengths of the plan. But thank you for your approval, General."

He disconnected when he heard Carina's laugh as she and Casey entered the Den. He waited until they'd gotten their morning coffee before he announced his departure.

"Morning, Carina. I just got off the horn with the General. I have to fly in to Meade for a 'conference' and I suppose a trip to the woodshed. Casey, the dailies are current and I'll just pick up the new dailies when I get to Meade."

He went in to the kitchen to refill his cup and then check to make sure his plane reservations were made for both legs of his trip. It would be a one-way to Meade.

Carina followed Chuck into the kitchen and fiddled around with things that didn't need done. He was waiting for it and he knew she was preparing her 'Chuck, you need to forget about this plan' speech.

"Chuck, Mira would not approve of your plan. She'd say you were needlessly exposing yourself and the intersect to serious risk with insufficient reason. And I agree. Casey thinks it's an acceptable risk given the potential but I don't. Chuck, please, rethink this. There has to be a simpler way of getting the same result. And from a woman's viewpoint, Chuck, you're not convincing anyone that you're 'moving on'."

"Who said I was moving on? I'm just doing my job. I'm going to screw her brains out then fill the empty space with what I want her to know and tell Graham. It's work, Carina. I'm no different from you or Walker. It's just a job and she's the mark. I had the best honey trap in the business teach me, remember? No emotional entanglements. No feelings. Show emotions, convincing emotions, to the mark but don't feel them. It's all an act. I learned my lesson well."

Carina was speechless and she was on the verge of tears. This cold and emotionless man before her was new and she didn't like him. This man was like she was, before she decided at 30 that she needed to go back and find the Carina Hansen she'd been when she joined government service and try to be more like her. This is what constant loss, emotional betrayal and disappointment and tragedy produced. Not even John Casey at his worst was as cold and machine-like as this 'Chuck' was today.

"Carina, it has to be this way. I have to be this way if this is going to work. I haven't lost myself yet. I just need to do this, to find some closure for all those lives lost because of me. I want to find some peace in this life. Surely you of all people understand?"

She felt the sudden urge to hug him, to tell him it would be alright and that he didn't need to do this to find peace of mind but she knew she'd be lying and she was so done with that. "Fine. Just promise me you'll come back to us, Chuck. Don't lose your way. Sometimes the path of least resistance is the path you need to avoid at all costs. You don't need to lose your soul to be an agent, Chuck."

**Valley Forge Military Academy  
****Valley Forge, PA**

He checked his weapon with the Provost Marshal and signed in. The magic shield and ID card with it's diagonal red stripe seemed to intimidate even a retired infantry colonel who had objected to him visiting without proper advanced approval.

"Colonel, I'm leaving on an assignment. I'd like to see Josh before I leave. I don't know…I don't know when I'll be back so I'd like to see him and explain why I'll be gone for a while." He'd been emailing and talking to Josh almost every day for the past month and he knew the boy had come to look forward to his calls and emails. They didn't amount to more than "Hi, how are you doing?" but both found satisfaction in them.

"I see. Well, then get out of here, Agent Bartowski. You're wasting time with me when you should be with him. Agent, good luck. We'll look forward to your return." He'd been around the block and knew that "I don't know when" really meant – if.

They spent the day together doing whatever Josh wanted. When it came time to say goodbye Josh asked Chuck the question he knew he have to lie when he answered.

"Chuck, it's not a visitor day and you took me out of my classes. Why? Are you going away? Will I see you again?" He was perceptive like his mother and far blunter. Kids asked the right questions, just got the wrong answers a lot.

"I'm going on assignment, buddy, and I won't be able to call you or email you for a while. I just wanted you to know so you wouldn't think I'd forgotten about you, that's all. I'll be back before you know it."

He'd ask Josh if he'd like to come to California for a couple of weeks during summer vacation. The Dawsons had already approved. And Josh said he was looking forward to it, to seeing the ocean.

"Then we'll go to the beach, hit the waves, check out the girls and have a good old time. I'll see you then, Josh."

* * *

**NSA HQ  
****FT Meade, MD**

Chuck's ID card with the mythical red diagonal slash opened up almost all doors for him at NSA HQ. He reported in to General Beckman and she'd given final OK to the op. His next stop was the 2nd floor data center and an accidental meeting with his mark, Laura Pope.

His timing was near perfect. The ID with its red stripe drew attention and distance from the majority of the analysts. He'd spotted his mark on his walk through the warren of cubicles and noted that she had yet to take her morning break. He sat back in the corner of the canteen watching the entryway for her to appear.

Laura Pope was not what anyone would call beautiful. She carried herself with a certain grace but she dressed in a style that was out of date and she needed to discover a hair stylist. He wondered, for an uncharacteristically uncharitable moment, what could possibly have attracted Graham to such a simple looking woman when there were many more choices. She was…plain and ordinary.

She walked down the serving line getting a cup with a tea bag and a muffin of some sort, paid the cashier and then turned abruptly running into Chuck and sending his coffee onto his shirt.

"Oh, shit! I'm so sorry, Agent. I was thinking about something and…"

Chuck managed to look surprised, pissed and forgiving all at the same time. "No problem. I drink too much coffee anyhow. Sorry. I should have been more aware of my surroundings. I get lost in thought sometimes and…"

"Oh, my, yes. Me too. And with disastrous results. I'm so sorry. Your shirt is ruined and your suit. Please, let me at least pay for the dry cleaning. Armani, too. I hope it isn't ruined." She was on the verge of tears and embarrassed.

"Hey, no big deal. I'm just here for an interse… I mean, uh, a refresher. I have a clean shirt in my bag and a spare tie. No problem. It was my fault as well. I don't like downloads and my mind was far away." He smiled and left, turning on his heel and leaving the canteen. This was almost fun.

Laura Pope was mortified. She just knew everyone was looking at her. Damn it, of all the days for her electricity to go out. She'd slept in and didn't even take time to put on any makeup. She'd dressed for speed not looks and was lucky she managed to find something that matched in the dark. She'd run a brush through her hair and then ran to catch the Metro. He probably thought she was one of the gnomes everyone thinks works in government. People like her never met people like him, except by accident. She almost ran back to her cubicle.

The next day Chuck prepared for another 'encounter'. Prior to coming into the canteen he'd spent several minutes in the men's room rubbing his eyes until they were reasonably bloodshot. He put on his aviators and walked into the canteen and got coffee and took a seat in the corner of the room so he could watch for her entrance.

While he was waiting he took a call from Carina. They'd managed to save Walker's leg but she had severe internal injuries as well as a crushed hip. She'd live but she'd never be an agent again. Most likely they'd give her a substantial medical pension and be done with her. She was looking at a number of operations and extensive physical therapy before she was released.

Sarah's situation brought him to the brink of tears. His kick-ass Ninja spy girl was broken. He felt miserable for her. The job was her entire life. She'd be lost without it. She had nothing else.

He was rubbing his eyes, massaging away the tears he would have shed for her. Once he'd loved her. Given her the bracelet. So much had changed.

"Excuse me, Agent. Are you all right?" a soft voice asked him.

"Not really. No." He answered without thinking and looked up and saw Laura Pope looking down at him with concern. She was carrying her teacup with bag and her muffin. He almost didn't recognize her. She was wearing makeup, a nice business suit and her hair was done up in some twist that complimented her face. She looked quite striking.

"Um, well, I, uh, we met yesterday. I'm the klutz that ruined your shirt. I'm so sorry about that. Please, at least let me pay for the dry cleaning?"

"The Agency covers my clothing expenses. Don't worry about it but you were very kind to offer. Please, join me? I don't know anyone here and I just hate sitting alone. I have another…refresher to download in a bit and I'm not looking forward to it. I…I'm always tense. It's like going to the dentist except the pricks don't use novacaine."

She had a sudden insight. This guy was the one who carried all their data around in his head. She'd heard the rumors, the outlandish tales of some guy who had all the secrets in his head. This was him.

She introduced herself and they talked about nothing until she noted the time. Her break had been over for 10 minutes and she had to get back to work.

"I know we only just met and you don't know me from a crazy stalker but would you like to have dinner with me tonight? I'm just here for a few days and I don't know anyone. My team's in California and I…"

"Yes. 8pm?"

"Yeah, sure, Laura. I'm looking forward to it."

He waited 20 minutes before going to her general work area and tracking her down. Her supervisor was loudly reminding her of the break schedule when she looked over and saw Chuck standing, well, leaning against the cubicle wall. She took in the red stripe and became ultra-professional.

"Can I help you, Agent?" Yeah, all ultra-professional. Chuck hated her immediately.

"No, but you can apologize to Ms. Pope. I was asking her questions about this operation since I have a vested interest in it and I'm the one responsible for her returning late. So, bitch me out, you harpy, and not her. I'm sure the General would be interested in how you supervisors have so little regard for the people who are your ultimate customers – people like me."

"She didn't say any…"

"Of course she didn't. She's a professional and knows you don't discuss confidential information. She was very discreet, to the point of not telling me vital information. I was coming to see you to ask permission to borrow her for a bit to brief me in on your operation when I heard you."

"Well, of course, Agent. Use my office. It's secure." She motioned Laura to go with Chuck.

When they got into the supervisor's office he made a big deal of closing the door. Laura had her back to him and was shaking.

"Hey, I didn't mean to upset you or cause trouble. I'll go straighten this all out."

She turned around and was laughing. "Oh, Charles, you put that old bag in her place. You're the local hero around here now. She's a harridan and uses her position to brow beat the troops. I'm not in any trouble. And she'll be a lot more careful whom she 'disciplines'. But what's this all about?"

"You forgot to give me your address."


	13. Getting Even without Bluffing

TheGame11

**_T/N: See A/Ns at end. Thanks. NF_**

_**But still there is so much left unanswered  
For so many innocent lives  
**_"Shelter" – Sarah McLachlan

* * *

He had the rest of the day to do nothing so he pulled the dailies from Beckman's secretary and took them to a secure workroom where he reviewed them in great detail. The CIA had finally brought 'their' files up to date and there was about 6 months of data to review.

He was about to call it a day when he noticed some technical reports relating to the development of a new bio-poison that mimics fatal diseases by some independent researchers that the CIA thought was a very interesting addition to their armory of poisons, gases and toxins. He asked Beckman's secretary to request additional information of the process and to add it to the dailies when it became available. Sometimes he surprised himself with his own degree of morbid curiosity.

He picked Laura Pope up at her apartment and they went to a small restaurant she'd recommended earlier. It was Italian and was owned by the family that ran it. The food was excellent and the conversation flowed easily between the two new friends – except that one of the friends was manipulating the conversation, pushing it in the desired direction.

She asked if he'd like to come up for coffee but he said he had an early morning appointment but that he'd see her in the canteen. There was no awkward silence regarding the good night kiss. She leaned over and kissed him and promised she wouldn't pour anything on him in the morning. He smiled and left, not feeling at all like Chuck but rather a lot like he imagined Bryce felt. The difference was that Larkin didn't care at all for the people he made collateral damage. Chuck did.

* * *

They met again the following morning on her break and she asked him if he'd like to have a home cooked meal instead of eating in an expensive restaurant. 'I'm no Domestic Goddess in the kitchen but I've been living on my own since high school and you learn to cook out of necessity' she'd said.

Since it was Friday and they both had the weekend off, they made plans for Saturday also. Chuck had never been to the National Zoo and she thought he'd like it. They had a plan. Chuck's plan was to wake up Sunday morning with her and then spend the day doing 'dating' things before explaining he was leaving for a while on an assignment. Hopefully she'd taken the bait by that time.

It almost worked out that way.

Arthur Graham had an itch and he wanted to scratch it so he called his newest 'friend' and asked her to meet him at the apartment. He'd bring dinner and they could spend the night and Saturday doing anything she'd like.

Laura was very upset about the last minute expectations and told him so. She had plans that couldn't be changed. He'd need to consider her schedule in the future before making plans of his own. She still believed that there were feelings there for her. She didn't know Graham had perfected his technique in field situations.

"Bartowski."

"Chuck, it's Laura. I'm terribly sorry but something's come up. I have a friend of the family who's come into town unexpectedly and will be staying with me over the weekend. I'm sorry, but I need a rain check on the weekend? Please?"

"Hey, sure thing. I might just drive down to Philly and check up on the son of another agent who passed away. I promised I'd keep in touch with him. He's stuck in some military boarding school. His family is strange. The kid's been there since he was 6." There was a lot of truth in what he said. It was weird…and mean in Chuck's opinion.

"I'm really sorry, Chuck. I was really looking forward to it, too. Maybe next weekend? Please?"

"I'll have to leave it open, Laura. The Agency doesn't really allow us much time for a social life but yeah, assuming I'm still around and kicking, next week's good for me." Inside he was pissed. Damn Graham.

She could tell Chuck was irritated but there wasn't much she could do about it. She needed Graham's help if she was to get out of the clerical and into the analysis side of the intel business. He said he would help. And he was very appreciative of the information she'd passed on to him. He said 'politics' kept him from knowing things the NSA knew that could keep his agents alive. The politics kept him from knowing critical information.

She didn't understand why the agencies couldn't share intel as innocuous as personnel changes, home addresses and travel schedules for NSA agents to make sure the agencies weren't operating in the same areas and avoid 'stepping on' each other's operations. 'It all benefited the greater good,' Graham told her.

Chuck filled the week with mini-downloads, reviewing intel reports, meetings with the Project Intersect programming team and hours-long sessions on the ranges or in the gym.

It was late Wednesday evening and he was leaving for his quarters and another night of reading reports or banging away at a game he'd been toying with but had set aside when Mira came into his life. Beckman's admin assistant brought him the reports he'd ask for on the CIA's new bio-poison. He put it into his briefcase with the other reports he needed to read and thanked her and left.

* * *

**NSA HQ  
****Thursday**

He was waiting in Beckman's outer office at 6am when the General arrived. She took one look at him and knew her day's schedule was gone before she even opened the office door.

"Agent Bartowski, I haven't even had my coffee yet and here you are, ready to destroy my mood and day. What is it that is so damned important it couldn't wait for…"?

Chuck shoved the extra large Starbuck's special blend that the General sucked up like oxygen all day and nodded toward her door.

He remembered when he and Mira had been in this office. She'd been so afraid of the little general.

"General Beckman, the CIA has been field-testing a drug that mimics fatal events such as coronaries, pulmonary embolisms, blood clots and….strokes. Here is a list of their field tests. Note the locations in May and the 'clinical trial' expectations and actual results."

He knew when she reached the point in the list he had. She noted the date, time, location and 'method of delivery' and the information that could be determined from public sources.

"They murdered Agent Miranda Dawson. They missed me. I had had a stomach virus and passed on the 'free pizza' they delivered as a promotion. They killed my Mira, General Beckman, trying to get me. They murdered a citizen of the United States, an agent of the NSA, and it's no more than a footnote in a damned report."

General Beckman sat back in her chair, coffee forgotten. The look on her face was one Chuck didn't recognize.

Fear.

**

* * *

** **Thursday  
10am**

Chuck managed to 'bump' into Laura Pope again in the canteen. They stopped and chatted for a few moments about what they'd been up to since they'd last spoken. Chuck didn't bring up their broken date and he could see she was desperately trying to bring the conversation around to 'what are you doing this weekend, Charles?' when his cell rang.

"Excuse me, I have to take this."

"Bartowski."

"Casey. Carina and I are flying in; we'll be there this evening. Beckman briefed us. I'm sorry, Chuck. I had no way of knowing."

"I'll pick you up. What time will you be getting in and on what flight?"

He jotted down the information in his Day Timer and disconnected the call.

"Laura, I have to pick up someone at the airport this evening but would you like to have dinner Saturday night?"

"I'm calling in my rain check. Dinner, my place, 7pm. Dress is very casual. And Sunday, I want to take you to the National Zoo, Chuck. Make up for last weekend, OK?"

"I'd like that. See you then." He watched her walk away. If she'd seen the look on his face she might not have been so enthusiastic about her upcoming date and, hopefully, sleepover.

* * *

**BWI  
****10:30pm**

Chuck met his partners at the baggage claim. Carina thought he looked 'haunted' while Casey thought he looked – like an agent. He'd changed.

Carina hugged him and asked him how he was doing. She knew that the discovery of the attack on him and the murder of Mira was like tearing a scab off a healing wound. She was worried about her young partner. She couldn't begin to imagine how this must be ripping him up inside.

Chuck told his partners everything he'd accomplished so far. Casey just nodded but Carina asked a million questions on the drive to HQ. Casey had anticipated this and sat in back trying to ignore the whole thing. He'd asked her not to do this but 'Mama Bear Carina' was out and about and Casey knew not to get between her and her partner.

"Tell me what you done so far, Chuck. How's the 'screwing her brains out' coming along?" She'd been against it from the start.

"Fine. I haven't gotten that far. Graham interceded and she hared off with him for the weekend. Tomorrow night I'm having dinner at her place and she wants to take me to the National Zoo Sunday. She implied a sleep over and I didn't dissuade her. A lot depends on our meeting with Beckman in the morning and my 'option 2' plan. Casey you'll like it. Carina will, too. It's simple and elegant. And he'll never see it coming until it hit's him in the chest."

* * *

They met in Beckman's office at 7am. Carina was not a morning person so she drank one of the two Starbuck's special blends he'd picked up for the General. It never hurt to be prepared.

"Agents, Bartowski's discovery and documentation of the new substances in the CIA's arsenal are very disturbing. I can point to at least four 'natural deaths' in the CIA power structure within the last two months that were totally unexpected. Graham is not above killing his political opponents to advance his own personal agenda or that of his Federation employers. He must be stopped but we have insufficient proof to have him arrested."

"We are going to assassinate him, instead." She nodded towards Chuck who took over the briefing.

"The General has obtained small quantities of the substance for 'testing'. It resembles salt so it's extremely easy to transport, infuse and distribute. It is water-soluble and can be used intravenously. It breaks down in the body within hours of ingestion and is untraceable."

Casey interrupted. "You're going to assassinate the Director of Operations of the CIA? Are you people nuts? That's – that's treason!"

Beckman answered for Chuck. "Was it 'treason', Colonel, when you shot General Winslow and stopped him from retargeting and launching the missiles under his command after 9/11? No. And neither is this. There is sufficient circumstantial evidence to link him to the deaths of 147 people who worked for him or other arms of the government."

Casey looked shocked that she'd break secrecy on such a high-level 'secret'. Carina didn't say anything at all, just had a knee jerk reaction to hold his hand that she quickly stifled. Chuck said nothing. He knew about it but hadn't known that Casey was the shooter. He knew tons of innocuous secrets that would sicken John Q. Public if they ever saw the light of day.

They outlined the plan and Chuck breathed a sigh of relief when Casey nodded his acceptance. Neither of them would play a role in the event. Lesser-known NSA personnel would handle it and then return to their deep cover operations elsewhere in the world.

Chuck had argued violently with the General and only acquiesced when she agreed to ignore Laura Pope's involvement and quietly transfer her away from the DC area and promote her to a training analyst position. He'd wanted to pull the trigger, stick in the knife, drive the car, plant the bomb, whatever was going to be used. He'd have to settle for reading about it in the newspapers.

* * *

**Saturday evening**

Laura Pope had called Chuck's cell at least five times and each time it went to voicemail. She could take the hint. She quit calling and concentrated on normal things in her life. Perhaps she'd see him Monday at work. She hoped so.

**Sunday afternoon**

The plotters again met at Beckman's office. The players were all in place and nothing remained to be done. Except two or three things that Chuck Bartowski planned on bringing up over the next four days before the 'event'.

Beckman looked at Agent Bartowski. He wouldn't be an agent for much longer. That was part of their agreement. He'd stay until the operation was complete. Then he'd no longer be necessary. The NSA would take control of the CIA's version 2.4 and Bartowski would work with NSA programmers to 'tweak it' and then the human intersect would simply…cease to exist as would Chuck Bartowski.

There were parts of Thursday's 6am 'meeting' that Diane Beckman would like to forget. She refused to accept his decision. She didn't share his belief that version 2.4 was the ultimate product of Project Omaha although she did understand his motivation. He no longer wished to be involved with the intelligence operations, at any level. He would resign as an agent.

_She told him that resignation was unacceptable and the knowledge in his head was too valuable to allow 'lose'. His response was classic Bartowski._

"_Execute Kappa Epsilon partition drop. Execute Epsilon Pi data dump. Execute…"_

"_Stop! You don't know what you're doing. Please, stop. You shouldn't even be aware of those protocols. Who told you?" She was extremely disturbed. The protocols he'd initiated would 'erase' the intersect and also 'erase' Chuck Bartowski's personal memories and personality. He was that determined to be free. Obviously detention was not an option, not when he merely had to recite a series of instructions followed by a series of numbers._

"_I am the intersect. You'd be surprised what I know." His tone of voice had been commanding and decisive laced with the usual Bartowski sense of humor. "It was logical that I'd find my own personal 'off switch'."_

Her thoughts were drawn back to the current meeting.

"Chuck, I don't think that's advisable. She's not 'receiving visitors'. She wouldn't even see me and I've known her for years."

"Make it happen, Agent Hansen. Agent Bartowski's request is quite understandable under the circumstances. This afternoon would be best."

"But General Beckman…"

"Carina, I said 'make it happen'. That wasn't a request."

* * *

**Sunday Afternoon  
****Saint John's Rehabilitation Center  
****Baltimore, MD**

Chuck simply refused to answer Carina's questions. It was none of her business. This was between him and Sarah. If she wouldn't see him, he'd simply sit down on the floor outside her door until she came out and then he do what he set out to do and leave.

She was asleep. He sat down beside her bed and looked at her. His beloved kick-ass ninja spygirl was a mess but she still looked beautiful to him. He held her hand knowing she'd never allow it in public. He took something from his coat pocket and then leaned over her and kissed her cheek and left.

He walked out into the parking lot and got into the car and motioned for Carina to go. "She wouldn't see you, would she? Told you. She doesn't want anyone to see her like that. She's ashamed, Chuck, and it's a normal and natural response for a woman. She's…"

"She was asleep. I saw her. It's done. I'm done. Let's go."

* * *

Arthur Graham had lunch regularly at a small restaurant a few miles from his office. He always sat at the same table and he always ordered the same thing. He'd arrive punctually at 1pm and leave at 2:30pm. His driver knew the routine and it never varied. Only his luncheon guests did.

Today it was a staffer for a US Senator who wanted information on his opponent in the upcoming election, damaging information. The staffer passed the Director a manila folder containing the preliminary budget cuts for the intelligence committee and who was in favor or opposed to the CIA's increase. Politics. Tit for tat. I scratch your back, you scratch mine.

A clumsy new waitress spilled the staffer's wine glass when she was refilling it and it spilled mostly on the Director's plate. Within seconds the dishes and silver were whisked away, a new tablecloth was laid on and fresh meals were placed before them. The maitre d' came out and personally apologized and told them the meal was complimentary because they had to endure such poor service.

The Director expected as much. The Senate staffer was impressed with how respected the Director was and he knew respect was power and he obviously had it.

Two days later the news reported the death of Arthur Graham, Director of Operations for the CIA from a stroke. He was found in an apartment he maintained for 'entertainment purposes' and was surrounded by evidence of recent 'entertainment'.

* * *

**NSA Data Ops Center  
****NSA HQ  
****FT Meade, MD**

It was a funeral of sorts. Beckman was there and, of course, John Casey. Carina had refused to attend after learning what he planned, refused to see or speak with him.

He'd tied up his affairs, talked with Ellie for a few minutes and then with Devon when Ellie would no longer talk to him. He'd also spoken to the Dawsons, reminding them of their promise and then asking them to take care of Josh as grandparents, not as mere tuition-payers. He'd shame them into taking him out of that boarding school.

"All right. Let's get this done. We all know what's going to happen and what might happen and I'm OK with it. Casey has my medical power of attorney and I trust him to do the right thing. If the worst happens, I want you to remember what I told you about Odessa, Casey."

"I remember, Chuck. I'll see to it."

Beckman stood there in silence. She's seen executions before. But never a suicide.

"Execute Kappa Epsilon partition drop. Execute Epsilon Pi data dump. Execute…" Chuck slowly recited without hesitation.

"Erase, erase, erase, Execute Kappa Epsilon, Execute Epsilon Pi data dump. Execution authority 6Y52H…"

"Stop, Bartowski. Stop this immediately. You win. You're free to go. Damn you to hell, Charles Bartowski. This was totally unnecessary. You'll have watchers and I expect you to keep your word and assist us when necessary. Now open your eyes and get out of that chair." She was shaking with rage. No one had ever called her bluff like the sonofabitchBartowski.

Casey and the techs fumbled with the restraints and set the chair up right.

"Oh, shit, he's flashing. I think the dump started and was interrupted 'in progress'.

* * *

**Saint John's Rehabilitation Center  
****Baltimore, MD**

Sarah Walker looked at her right wrist and smiled as best she could with a broken cheekbone, broken jaw and nose. Last Sunday afternoon she'd had an epiphany of sorts. When she woke up from her drug-induced nap she saw that she'd had a visitor. And he'd left her a gift and a short note scrawled on a piece of paper he'd obviously taken from the nurses' station.

It was a single simple sentence of three words. Only one man could have written it because only one man could have known the significance of the bracelet she'd found on her wrist. The note said simply 'When you're ready."

* * *

End Part 2 _**Now for the juicy parts you Charah addicts have been waiting for. I hope you feel it was worth the wait.**_

_**APR**_


	14. Splitting headache and personality

TheGame12

_**Somewhere deep inside me  
I hold a picture of a time long gone**_"Trust" – Sarah McLachlan

* * *

**Saint John's Rehabilitation Center  
****Baltimore, MD**

The doctor had finished examining her incision that closed the open wound, deliberately left open for 5 days, and ran from her hip to just above the knee.

"Healing very nicely, Agent Walker. It appears that the blood flow has been reestablished and we've avoided any DVT to this point. When the swelling reduces, we'll see about reassembling your hip joint. You should expect tingling and itching in the foot and calf. It's normal. Now, pain management is another thing all together. You must and I say again, must, use self-sedation. You will not heal as well or as quickly if you are under pain-induced stress. Don't be stupid, Agent. We could be talking about stump maintenance and care. You could have lost the leg. Don't slow your recovery."

She nodded. She understood.

"The big risk now is ischemia and deep vein thrombosis, and we won't know the full extent of the risk and/or damage until we can get you on your feet. I won't lie to you, Agent Walker; this is a long process of recovery. And several more surgeries. We'll continue on with Warfarin and hot compresses until we can get you on your feet after the hip replacement surgery."

"Hip replacement?"

"Your hip and a portion of your pelvis were crushed. The hip joint will be replaced with a manufactured appliance. It will speed your recovery and enable you to walk. It's quite common and rarely unsuccessful. We're trying not only save your life, Agent Walker, but improve its quality. You should be ready for surgery in two weeks."

"What's the best I can hope for, Doctor? Can I return to field status?"

The doctor sighed. He hated this part of the job.

"No. I'm sorry, Agent Walker, but the very best we can hope for is that you'll be able to walk without support or pain. Barring an absolute miracle, that is the best we can hope for. I don't lie to my patients. Field status is out of the question."

"I appreciate your honesty. I – I – I don't know how to do anything else. I've always been a field agent. It's all I know, doctor. It's all I've ever wanted. Except…once, I wanted a normal life and now I've been robbed of even that chance."

"Agent Walker, you can have a normal life. You'll just have to accept some limitations. Be thankful. As I said before, we could be discussing prosthetics and stump care. It may not seem like it now, but there are other careers at the CIA. You're valuable and important to them, otherwise you'd be in a nursing home someplace massaging your stump."

She appreciated his honesty and bluntness. She knew she was lucky to be alive, very lucky to have both legs but she wondered about a certain curly-haired man and if he would accept her. She knew he'd say it made no difference but she knew it would out of pity or obligation. _'When you're ready'._ She didn't think she'd ever be ready. Not now.

The doctor made notes requesting a psych consultation and left her alone with her fears and tears.

* * *

**NSA Data Ops Center  
****NSA HQ  
****FT Meade, MD**

He stopped flashing. The dump had been interrupted early enough that the essential personality of Chuck Bartowski, a 30-year old man, was intact but in shock and in hiding. The dump had stimulated the areas of his brain where long-term and mostly forgotten or repressed memories of past trauma were stored and he relived all of those in a sequentially compressed fashion, without the benefits of personality filters and without the benefits of a normal passage of time. It had been…upsetting to say the least.

"Chuck? Chuck, can you hear me?" Casey was concerned. Bartowski had told him all the things that might happen when he triggered the dump but

not this.

Chuck opened his eyes and tried to get up but he couldn't. His heart was pounding and he could hear his blood rushing through his veins as shushing pulses in his ears. He couldn't focus and he felt like he'd been torn apart and reassembled haphazardly. Things were missing and he didn't know what, just that they were…gone.

"C-Casey, reload. Reload. Have to get it back. Reload, please. I'm missing, John Padraig Casey, I'm incomplete. Please, Paddy, please."

Casey reeled back as if he'd been punched. No one knew his middle name, no one, and no one had called him 'Paddy' since he'd been twelve when his mother died. Yet Bartowski…

"General, we have to reload the intersect. Something's wrong. No one, especially not Bartowski, knows my childhood nickname. It's in the intersect but nowhere else."

"He wanted it out, now he wants it reloaded? What's going on here, Colonel Casey? This makes no sense. Surely…"

"Stop your damned prattling, Diane Wadsworth Beckman, and get the damned files reloaded before it's too late for him, for me. Reload the files."

Now it was Beckman's turn to be surprised but she reacted much quicker than Casey.

"Load the files. Prepare to reintersect Bartowski. Something's wrong and this might fix it. Move it, people!"

She and Casey left the room and donned the required polarized glasses. "What do you think happened, Colonel Casey? He…sounded frantic and he knows things he shouldn't, couldn't know. Did you see the look in his eyes?"

"Yeah. I've seen Chuck lose it before, but this, this is fear on a visceral level. He's terrified but…I don't think it's really him…crazy, but it's like it's…the intersect?"

The download started and the pulsing images poured forth from all directions. Hundreds of thousands of images flowed into the brain through the optic nerve.

Fifty-two minutes and 17 seconds into the download the process slowed and stopped. Queued files from Version 2.4 were loaded and the process continued.

Sixty-one minutes and eleven seconds later the download had been fully restored and the displays were dark. The techs and Casey rushed in to check on Bartowski. Beckman took off her polarized glasses and looked on. Her maiden name had been misspelled in the intersect. Her maiden name was Wordsworth, not Wadsworth. Wadsworth was only in the intersect.

Chuck stood up shakily. He felt like he was covered in ants. His brain itched. He remembered everything.

"Thanks, Paddy, you saved us." Chuck smiled his normal smile and Casey saw that his eyes crinkled when he smiled – he was back.

"We need to get you checked out by Medical before we can do anything. Bartowski, don't call me 'Paddy', OK? It's a childhood nickname and I'm not particularly fond of it."

"Sorry, Colonel Casey. I just needed to get your attention and get you to listen. It's going to be fine. He just needs a little time to adjust to having every bad thing in his life hit him squarely without time to adjust between tragedies. I'll be fine."

Casey twigged to the mixed pronoun usage. 'We' and 'I' and 'it' and 'he' didn't fit and suddenly he knew.

"Is he OK? Will he ever come out again? He's my friend. He's who you are. He has people who love him and care for him. Is he gone?" He had to know.

Chuck frowned. "I don't know. I'm him but not him. It's complicated, John. I don't understand it. I know all about him, me. I know he loves someone who died, I feel that grief and it's all new to him again. He's hiding, John, for lack of some better term. He's grieving all over again for his mother, his father, for Jill and Sarah and Mira and all those people he let die. He's so conflicted right now. He's clinically insane, we both are. It's temporary, I hope. He doesn't care right now. He's definitely suicidal but I'm not. He would have allowed the dump to proceed and I had to go along with it. If Beckman hadn't caved we wouldn't be having this conversation. We don't bluff, John Casey. We don't know how."

"Is he dangerous? I can't believe I'm talking to you and asking if you're dangerous? Like you'd tell me the truth."

"Only to himself. I won't let him do anything but my presence here is tenuous and temporary."

Chuck had tears in his eyes when he looked at Casey. "Love hurts. Don't let us go to Odessa, Paddy. It'll be the end of us both but I'm so tired." Whatever Chuck Bartowski was sat down in the chair and fell asleep.

Chuck was placed in restraints, sedated and taken to the Medical section for observation. Casey had been rattled enough that Beckman called Medical and then laid on a request for a psych evaluation.

**NSA HQFT Meade, MD  
Four days later**

The psychiatrist examined and tested Bartowski extensively. Little by little a picture of what had happened emerged.

"General, Agent Bartowski needs time to reintegrate his personality and adjust and adapt to his new 'environment'. He's gone through a horrible ordeal. Imagine you suffer from amnesia and suddenly all your memories return, all at once, the good and the bad. You get to experience everything you've forgotten all at the exact same time. His personality has fractured into a public persona and a deeper and more personal one. He's grieving and trying to come to terms with all he's feeling – again."

"He told us he was insane, is he?"

"Oh, good lord, no. He's going through a process of putting things back again where they belong. He experienced every single memory he ever had that was retained in his brain at the moment the 'data dump' was halted. I don't pretend to understand such things and I know they're classified but Bartowski is a classic case that deserves intense clinical scrutiny."

"And this thing in his head that knows things…"

"It's him, General. He's dealing with a complex set of issues and it's how he copes. It's a coping mechanism, nothing more, I assure you."

"That will be all, Dr. Rice. This is all highly classified and the events you have become privy to have never happened. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Yes, General. He should be fine in a few weeks, a month or two at the most."

General Beckman called Colonel Casey.

"Casey secure."

"Beckman, secure. The operation here is completed. He'll recover better in familiar surroundings. Take him home, John. We'll see about missions after he's had a week to relax. Have him do the dailies but nothing else. Keep me informed daily and if anything unusual occurs we might have to use the Moab option."

Carina hugged Chuck as if she hadn't seen him in years. When Casey cleared his throat she just looked up at him and said, "Don't mind Casey, Chuck. He gets really jealous when I hang all over good looking younger guys. I'm just so damned glad to see you up and around."

"Let go of my woman, Bartowski. Get one of your…aw, shit. I'm sorry, Chuck. I didn't mean anything by it." Casey was appalled that his big foot had jumped into his equally big mouth.

"Hey, I understand. Besides, I'm not into older women, Paddy." Chuck could be mean when he wanted to be. And he wanted Casey to know it hurt.

Carina raised an eyebrow and said, "Paddy?" to Casey who glowered at Chuck but said nothing else.

"Carina, have you been by to check on Sarah? How's she doing? Any improvement?"

"Yeah, but she wouldn't see me. I talked to a nurse who said she'd dodged a big bullet and her doctor was really pleased with her progress. She can't really talk with her jaw wired up but she's not in any pain and she has another surgery scheduled in two weeks to try and rebuild her hip. The doctors are very hopeful."

"When she's ready, I'll know it. Now, let's get out of here. Hey, Casey, do I have a place to live?"

**NAS-LA  
Wizard's Den  
****One month later**

Chuck had continued sleeping in the detention cell. Ms. Sanchez was working hard to find him a condo or apartment that would be secure and still meet his exacting standards. She was beginning to detest dealing with the Wizards and their resident hermit.

He'd been by to see Ellie and make amends for his stupidity. He was stupid. He never should have said a thing to her in the first place. He was learning. 'Need to know' had an expanded definition in his life now.

He looked forward to the dailies. He'd hacked into the database and found a link to St. John's and he'd watched Sarah's progress via doctor's notes.

She'd been recovering from reconstructive surgery on her. He hated that he had to wait until the next day to read the reports from her doctor. He wanted to be there with her every step of the way.

He should just call her later and talk but he didn't want to push her. They'd both said and done things that wouldn't go away but could be ignored until their relationship was on firmer footing. She'd call or come to him, when she was ready. He'd wait. He had no choice in the matter.


	15. Two Heads are Better than One

TheGame13

NF: I guess you can read. So read the A/Ns at the end of this chapter. He's not this cruel in r/l.

**_The couples cling and claw  
And drown in love's debris.  
_****"That's The Way I've Always Heard It Should Be" -** Carly Simon

* * *

**NAS-LA Wizard's Den**

Casey and Carina walked into the Den holding hands. Chuck saw this out of the corner of his eye and smiled. At last. The two people he knew best had finally come to realize what he'd known from the first mention of 'Carina and Prague'. They'd just been too damned stubborn, stupid and dense to realize it. It sounded like another secret agent he'd known and loved…and still did.

When Casey saw Chuck he dropped Carina's hand like it had become red hot and nodded toward 'the kid'. They'd both agreed not to rub their relationship in his face and so far they'd managed to avoid any horrendous missteps unless you count Casey's big mouth back at FT Meade.

"Morning, partners. I won't even ask about how your evening went. Casey, I really need you to lean on Melissa Sanchez. I need a place to call 'mine' and although I know that someday Beckman will have me in one, I really don't like the detention cell. The mattress is killing my back. You know, I'm not as young as I once was."

"Well, Chuck, you could always move back in with Ellie and Devon. I know they would understand and agree. Beckman's put a whole new meaning on the word 'secure' and Melissa's just not up to the challenge. I guess I could go have a chat with her." Carina hated Melissa with a passion ever since she overheard her talking about the 'idiot Freak hiding in the Den'. She'd almost torn her head off. Chuck was like…the one that got away. In all the time she'd been setting up marks, he'd been the only one to say 'no' and mean it. That made him special to her.

"You know, moron, you could always just clean up, get a hair cut and shave and put on a suit and go up and just schmooze her along. She'd probably want to show you around the place personally." He smile was not quite a leer. He loved pulling Chuck's chain.

"Nah. I'll just wait and see if Ms. Sanchez can find my 'Fortress of Solitude' on her own. She doesn't need any motivation from the 'idiot Freak hiding in the Den'.

Carina stared at Chuck and shook her head. 'How does he do that?'

"Y'know Casey, if you and C.C. would just get married, I could take your one-bedroom and you could find something more suitable." He used Carina's personal nickname knowing it would catch her attention. It did. Now for the killing blow.

"Casey, I'm sure Prague was a fluke. The chances of it happening again are like…one in a billion. And neither of you is getting any younger."

"Carina, you told him about Prague? How could you?" Casey was pissed and appalled. Was nothing sacred?

"Sugar Bear, I swear I never mentioned Prague and your… Damn you, Bartowski, leave us alone. And quit calling me C.C.!"

"Then get married and give up your apartment, Casey. It's a win-win situation, Carina. He loves you and you have handcuffs. Makes sense. And it's not like we'll ever get another mission what with the intersect being a nut-job and all."

Chuck was bored and a bored Chuck tended to be heavy handed and sarcastic. He needed something to fill his time. Dailies didn't touch the hours. He'd mastered condensation and conceptualizing until what used to take almost all day now took two hours at the most. The rest of the time he spent coding and tweaking a game he'd developed.

He'd put them both on the spot. The question was, would either of them have the good sense to admit what was so damned obvious?

**Saint John's Rehabilitation Center  
****Baltimore, MD**

The first time she sat in the wheelchair after her hip surgery was the most pain she'd felt since they lifted the slab of concrete off her. The process of standing and then sitting almost killed her. The physical therapist had warned her that the first time she put weight on the joint it would feel like she was falling but that it was natural, normal and definitely not true.

Two physiotherapists stood on either side of her supporting the majority of her weight but when the ball of her foot connected with the floor for the first time in more than six months she screamed in pain. Her hip felt like it was on fire and was trying to tear itself apart. She couldn't handle the pain and finally fainted.

She sat in a whirlpool for an hour afterwards. Her muscles weren't used to handling the strain of her leg and hip after she'd been supine and inactive for all that time. Physical therapy and weight training would solve the muscle weakness and whirlpool and massage would help ease the pain and cramping. She didn't think she'd survive a month of it.

The only thing that kept her going was the bracelet and what it meant to her, and to them. She'd thought about calling him but she knew he'd sense her pain and be there as soon as he could and she refused to allow him to see her like this: weak, in pain and vulnerable.

She talked with Carina at least once a week and sometimes more. Carina seemed to sense when she needed a friendly voice. Carina knew Sarah would never ask so she invariably worked 'Chuck Tales' into every conversation.

"Sarah, please, at least talk to him. He's been through so much mental pain lately. He needs to know you still care. He's hurting, Sarah. He almost di…"

"What? He almost DIED? When? Where the hell were you and Casey? Jesus…he almost DIED?"

"Sarah, I'm sorry. It slipped out. It's classified, sweetie, and I don't have all the information anyway. All I can tell you is that he discovered an 'off switch' in the thing we don't talk about and he told the General he'd use it if she didn't release him from service after he'd taken care of Gra…um, after he'd found out and…uh, shit, Sarah, I can't talk about it. He's OK now, well, no, he's not. He's miserable and he's empty. At least talk to him, Sarah. Give him some hope."

"No. I can't. I don't have any hope to give. I can hardly stand up for any time at all and sitting is no picnic. I can't burden him with a cripple, Carina. You know how he is; he'd refuse to accept what I am. I can't be a lover or a wife to him, ever. He'd tell me it didn't matter. Well, it matters to me because _**he**_ matters to me. It's not going to happen for us. He needs to accept that and move on. It's for the best, Carina." She hung up. She didn't trust herself to say another word.

Carina went into the bedroom where Casey was reading a biography on Ronald Reagan and sat down and took the book from him and then curled up beside him, her head on his bare chest. He could tell she was really upset because she wouldn't make eye contact with him.

"So what's up with Walker that's got you so upset, C.C.? She got you all worked up about something. What's going on with her?"

"She's given up on ever getting together with Chuck, Casey. She says she's a cripple and won't burden him with someone who can't be a lover or wife. Oh, God, Casey we've got to learn to watch what we say around those two. They're so damned perceptive about things but so damned thick about each other."

"Sort of like how Chuck sees us, C.C.?"

"Yeah, Johnny, it's obvious to everyone but them… And us."

"Then let's throw caution out the window and get married. Ever since Prague I've wanted nothing else. I almost called you a hundred times but I was afraid you'd laugh at me. You know how I am with girly feelings. It's hard enough to say I like you and damned near impossible to say I lov…"

"Stop. Please. Don't say it. I don't need to hear it and I don't want to hear it. I'm happy with the way things are, as happy as I've ever been, so let's not ruin it. People like us don't fall in love, John. It's too risky and emotional entanglements get agents killed."

"Then why are you here, with me? Is this just…a way to pass the time since Bartowski's not interested? Exactly what are we doing here, Carina Hansen? I'm not working a cover here. Are you?"

"John, it's complicated for a female agent, you know that. I just…"

"Answer my damned question. Why are you here? Is this just a cover?"

"It's not a cover to me. It's the best assignment I've had since joining the service. But I won't marry you, Casey. I can't. I'm sorry. I just can't."

Casey put his book on the nightstand and turned off the light and rolled over, intent on going to sleep. He'd asked the question and he got his answer. _Don't ask if you can't live with the answer._

"Casey, don't be like that. You asked me and I answered truthfully. Don't punish me. Don't go all cold and distant. I don't deserve this."

"Carina, stop by HR in the morning. See Sanchez. You need to find someplace to stay for the remainder of this assignment. Just make sure it fits your cover, what ever the hell it is."

He heard her gasp and then roll off the bed and walk into the bathroom. The shower almost muffled her crying.

When he woke in the morning, she was gone. Spies travel light and Hansen traveled lighter than most. Her life could be packed into two carry-on suitcases.

* * *

Chuck knew when Casey came into the Den alone and walked down to the range that he and Carina had had an argument and Casey had come out on the losing end. He'd already finished the dailies and was making coffee when the chime signified a videoconference. He paged Casey and then called Hansen. She was in HR with Ms. Sanchez. She'd be down in a few minutes.

Beckman's smiling image graced the plasma monitor. She rarely smiled and lately she didn't smile at Chuck, rather she glared.

"Good morning, Team. You have a mission. Our cousins with MI-6 have provided us with the names and photos of some of the U.K.'s Fulcrum hierarchy. They're flying into Bermuda for a meeting with some of our own Fulcrum leaders. Supposedly a 'Supreme Council', something new, will be formed during the meeting.

"Your task is to identify all the attendees and their entourage and provide any additional intelligence you can glean using the usual methods. Agent Bartowski and Agent Hansen will be going in as newlyweds and Agent Casey will already be in place as the temporary General Manager of the hotel where the meeting is taking place and where you'll be staying."

"Colonel Casey, you'll leave as soon as possible. Your cover has been established. The current GM is a retired CIA officer and has requested leave for medical treatment in the States. Personal weapons and equipment are already in place at the NSA sub-station at the old Naval Air Station - Bermuda and will be available at the hotel."

"Agents Bartowski and Hansen will fly in on Wednesday. The meeting is Friday and Saturday so you should have everything sewn up by Monday. Report back here to headquarters before returning to L.A. Agent Bartowski will be receiving a new update. Briefing packets will be forwarded by email. Your tickets and passports will be provided before the end of the day. That is all. Good luck."

"Well, I'll see you both in Bermuda. I'd better swing by and pick up my packet and then pack and get to the airport. I'll expect you Wednesday afternoon." Casey got up and left without another word.

"Chuck, I need you to be very careful on this op. I have a bad feeling about this. I'll be right back. I need to talk to Casey before he leaves."

'_He asked, she said 'no'. She'd better do more than talk to him before he leaves. She needs to make this right. We don't need additional tension or stress on the Team. This one's going to be hairy enough without distractions_.'

Carina came back two hours later. She'd obviously been crying and had at least stopped and repaired her makeup. She didn't say much for the remainder of the day. Chuck worked a bit on finishing up some coding he was doing for a personal project and then went back to see if Carina needed to talk.

"I listen well, Carina, if you feel the need to hear yourself explain the problem between you and Casey. And I promise I won't throw it in his face or use it to zing him. So, sit down and tell Uncle Chuck just what's got you in tears."

"After we got home, well, back to the apartment, last night, I tried to explain some things to him and he asked me to marry him and I said 'no'. I can't marry him, or anyone else for that matter. I'm damaged goods and no man would knowingly want to be with me if he knew what a whore I am. He asked me why I was with him and I couldn't answer. He asked me if it was all just for the cover because you weren't interested and I told him it wasn't for the cover but I couldn't marry him."

"And…?"

"He told me to stop by HR this morning and find a place to stay. He threw me out because I wouldn't marry him." No tears yet. So far so good.

"No, Carina, he threw you out because you didn't tell him the truth. You should have told him what you told me. You have a low opinion of Casey, Carina. Don't you think he knows your reputation? If he can love you enough to ask you to marry him, don't you think he deserves the truth about why you said 'no'?"

"When did you get so smart, Bartowski?" She kissed him hard and then ran to call Casey before he left.

_'We are pretty damned smart, aren't we, Chuck?'_

_'Damned right, we are. Now, go back into program la-la land. I'll need you in Bermuda and I don't want any delays, understand?'_

_'Yes, Master…bater.'_

_"Why do I always get the intersect comedians?"_

* * *

The next day Chuck received a FedEx package containing his mother's charm bracelet. She didn't even include a note.

When Carina saw him open the package and then remove the bracelet she left to give him some privacy and to make a phone call she didn't want him to overhear.

**Saint John's Rehabilitation Center  
****Baltimore, MD**

She was taking a nap after her most recent physical therapy session. She could stand and sit but the pain was still bad. She looked at her right wrist and for a moment her heart stopped because she thought she'd lost it but then remembered she'd returned it to it's rightful owner to be used when he met the right woman.

Her cell rang and she saw the caller ID and took a cleansing breath and answered it.

"Hello, Carina."

"You are a piece of work, Walker. You kept it how long? Three months this time? And then you decided…oh, Hell. You can't help being stupid. It's him I'm so angry with. He's so damned stubborn. He still believes in you. He's a fool."

"Carina, he doesn't understand the situation. He expects me to be Sarah Walker, kick-ass Ninja spygirl, and I'm not her anymore, I'll never come close. It's better this way, Carina. He can move on, find someone else who can give him all the things I can't and all the things he needs. You'll see that I'm right. In six months he won't even remember what I look like."

"Walker, in six months he'll be dead, mark my words."

"What do you mean? Is there anything wrong? Is he sick? Carina, damn you, tell me."

"Walker, I'm done talking with you. You don't deserve him. That was cold. Sending it back in a damned FedEx box without even a note. He deserved better. We're off on an op. He's going to be back at NSA HQ on Monday for an update. Use the time to put together your excuses but then you call him, Walker. He deserves to at least know why. He needs and deserves the truth."

"Carina, I'll give you one good reason…I – I don't love him."

Carina disconnected the call. There was nothing else left to say. At least she had tried to explain things to Casey. Walker was a lost cause.

* * *

She'd had herself a good cry and was mulling over calling Chuck and explaining why she returned the bracelet when she had a visitor.

"Agent Walker, I'm Marie from Agent Services. We've found you a nice apartment in a complex close to St. John's. It's totally wheelchair-friendly and you'll be able to shuttle back and forth between here and your apartment for treatments and therapy."

"Someone from Out Patient Medical will be by to show you how to care for your colostomy port and how to change the bags yourself. After your next surgery they'll be a bad memory with hardly a scar. We'll continue to work with you to improve your quality of life for the remainder of your treatments and beyond. Someone from Finance will be down to arrange bank accounts and direct deposit for your pension."

**A/N: Good things coming. I just had to lull you into a sense of complacency. After all, I have a angst rep to maintain. Will Carina and Casey ever get together? Will Chuck and the 'mind shadow' survive? Will Casey and Carina and Chuck become the new 'Bermuda Triangle'? Will Walker ever get her head out of her 4****th**** point of contact and just let the poor bastard in? Read on…**

**Armor-Plated-Rat **


	16. Beaten Badly in Bermuda

TheGame14

_**will mercy be revealed  
or blind us where we stand  
**_"Witness" – Sarah McLachlan

* * *

**NSA-LA  
****Wizard's Den**

Chuck made four CD copies of his work, sent the accompanying letters and asked that any replies be sent to a post office box in Burbank, California. He felt it was his best effort yet and at this point he needed help and he had to relinquish a degree of control to get that help.

His AI game module was truly revolutionary and his 'game within a game' would increase sales since it was also aimed at relationship fanatics, mostly women, who normally turned up their pert noses at 'video games'.

He owed it all to his mind shadow. That's what he decided to call the other thing in his head. Intellectually he knew it was really just a facet of his insanity but he kinda liked having someone to talk to about things. And to be fair, they did occasionally disagree. For example, when he opened the FedEx package and found his mother's bracelet.

'Ah, shit, Chuck. I'm sorry. That blows. And she didn't even include a laundry list of reasons why she wouldn't hook up with you. Stone cold be-aw-ch…'

'_Hey. This is just a temporary set back. You'll see. I love her and she loves me. It'll all work out, you'll see.'_

'_Won't.'_

'_Will.'_

'_Won't.'_

'_Will.'_

'_Won't. And you know why? Because Agents shouldn't get involved emotionally. It's dangerous and gets in the way of the mission. She's the best Agent the CIA has ever had. You cannot expect her to ignore who she really is at her core. You saw how well Carina handled it. She's doing it the exact same way, except you never talked to her so she could explain it to you in very simple and very, very, small words.'_

'_This is ridiculous. I'm arguing with myself and losing. And there's no reason to be insulting about it.'_

'_Hey, like you think, I'm just a facet of your insanity. BUT if I'm not really here then who the hell are you talking to?'_

'_Get back in the damned box.'_

'_Neener neener.'_

Chuck had requested a delay-en-route in Baltimore so he could get the update before the mission. His reason was that the fresher the intel, the greater the probability of a successful mission. Beckman agreed and for once didn't try to steal his soul with her witchy glare.

Carina was pissed at Chuck. It ruined her plan to get Sarah to call Chuck while he was in the Baltimore area on Monday and for Chuck to man-up and drive down to St. Johns and confront her with the truth of their relationship.

Damn him and his 'mission first' priorities. When did get all 'agenty'?

**NSA Intel Ops Center  
FT Meade, MD**

The download had left Chuck dizzy and with a headache that neared 'projectile vomiting' proportions. The 'mind shadow' would not shut up.

'Chuck, you won't believe who's suspected of being Fulcrum… man, wait until you flash on this chick. She's h-o-t, no kidding. Here, take a look.'

_Chuck flashed on a file photo of Miranda Dawson. Her file did not contain a date of death nor did it include any of the biographical data he knew it should. _

'_You looked for this deliberately, didn't you? Well, even if your motives were to hurt my feelings it worked out for the best. Now, get back in the damned box before I unplug us. No, wait, do a scan on all agents known to be deceased since January and let's see what you come up with.' _

"What is it now, Agent Bartowski?"

"General, the download had been corrupted. The data is bogus. Some of it is totally misleading and blatantly incorrect."

"I suppose you have proof of this?"

"Agent Miranda Dawson is listed as 'suspected Fulcrum operative' and her file is shown to be active not inactive. There is no date of death. There are others, almost all are either deceased or inactive. Sarah Walker is listed as Fulcrum as is Bryce Larkin and the new Director of Operations for the CIA."

He recited the file data and DLNs for the files he'd reviewed. Beckman promised to pull the original documents and have them reviewed. If Bartowski was correct, the entire program was in jeopardy. The intel from the Version 2.4 must have been corrupt at point of merger. This was a serious issue that required immediate attention.

"Agent Bartowski, your mission to Bermuda is scrubbed. Any information you might flash on would be suspect. I'm sorry, but all intersect operations and interfaces are hereby suspended."

"General, this mission is too important to scrub. We'll do it the old school way, with cameras, bugs and humint on the ground."

"I have my doubts, Agent. Let's conference with Colonel Casey and Agent Hansen in one hour. We'll let Colonel Casey have the deciding word since he's there and may have information we don't."

**One hour later  
NSA Conference Center**

John Casey looked like he'd spent time on the beach. His tan was darker than before and he had the telltale squint tan marks around the eyes. He was definitely having a good time.

"I agree with Agent Bartowski, ma'am. This mission is critical. We can map out the leadership hierarchy of Fulcrum and then roll them up at our leisure. It's important."

"Agents Bartowski and Hansen are in agreement. Modify any arrangements for them so that they can plan and place the surveillance equipment in the meeting areas as well as the rooms the Fulcrum 'guests' will be using. Their arrival time has been moved up. They're leaving immediately by private jet."

**Bermuda International Airport  
****Hamilton, Bermuda**

Carina and Chuck cleared Customs and were met by Casey who was driving a Southampton Princess courtesy van. They drove over to the Naval Air Station – Bermuda and then walked into the small building that housed NSA-Bermuda.

"Man, this is good duty. I might want to apply for a job here. Chuck, this is an incredible place. The beaches make yours look like sandboxes after the cats have been by."

Carina was quiet, avoiding almost all interaction with Casey. Chuck just went along for the ride, answering questions regarding the level of intersect corruption. Casey described the bugs and micro-cameras available and made his recommendations. He'd already handled bugging the guest rooms and the meeting room. It was decided that Chuck and Carina would float around and flash as opportunities arose.

After picking up their weapons and miscellaneous gear, they piled back into the van for the drive to the Hotel. Casey drove while Chuck and Carina sat in the passenger area of the large shuttle. Carina had been to Bermuda before.

"I was here twice with the DEA. We took down a small cartel that was dropping African dope in bags off the shore and having the locals fish them out. Really small change compared to Mexico or South America. But we stopped them in their tracks. Now they concentrate on Europe. I stayed in the same hotel. Chuck, you'll love the huge bathtubs and all the special amenities. I plan on soaking in that tub most of the night."

Chuck reached over and squeezed her hand and shook his head. She was baiting Casey and that wasn't good for the team. She was already wearing her skimpiest outfit and made a point of letting Casey know she was braless.

Casey glared at Chuck in the rear view mirror and drove faster than normal, dodging in and out of traffic, most of which was tourists on mopeds and motorbikes. You could not rent or own a car in Bermuda without special and very expensive permission. Tourists rented mopeds or scooters and the top speed were limited to 20mph. Walker would have hated it.

As they drove out of Hamilton and headed for Southampton Parish and the Hotel, Casey finally brought up the intersect's corruption problem.

"Chuck do you think that your almost wipe-out had anything to do with this? Beckman seems to think you've sabotaged the intersect."

"Nope. It was fine before, after reloading. I think there were some sleeper files in the most current download and that means we still have trouble over at the CIA. Pukes are probably fighting over Graham's corpse and Rolodex. I'll be Beckman didn't think of that scenario – a man or woman in the know who inherited Graham's mantle and relationship to the Russian Federation."

"Nope, she's focusing all her hate on you this week."

"Lucky, lucky, lucky…"

Carina laughed and Casey glared at Chuck who ignored them both. Beckman was normally not this short sighted but she did seem focused on him rather than problems. Oh, well, way the hell above his pay grade.

Casey processed their registration as 'Mr. & Mrs. Carmichael' and their bags disappeared into the system to reappear in their rooms. The bag containing their weapons would only open to a combination and Carina's thumbprint.

Casey had handed Chuck a file folder with lists of guests and room assignments. Those in bold type were known Fulcrum agents and those with checkmarks were members of their escort. All in all, Fulcrum would have forty people in attendance. Casey had bugged all the rooms as well as the conference rooms and adjacent lavatories. He was very efficient and left little to chance.

What Chuck didn't know was that he'd bugged his room with audio and video feeds.

* * *

They'd arrived too late for dinner so Chuck ordered room service for them. He sat down to wait and Carina hit the big tub to soak. Her moans of pleasure as she sunk into the hot water sent a shiver up Chuck's spine. '_I'm only a guy. How the hell am I going to handle sleeping in the same bed with Casey's ex?'_

Chuck answered the knock at the door after checking via the peephole that it was room service. He opened the door and was shot twice with a trank gun and folded in under the cart and whisked away.

* * *

John Casey waited patiently for Chuck Bartowski to recover from the small trank dosage. He sat in the corner of a hotel mechanical room in a folding chair drinking a bottle of beer. Beckman's instructions had been very specific. "Find out if Bartowski has been turned, Colonel Casey, and do whatever it takes to verify my informant's claim that he's been successfully recruited by Fulcrum."

The two other NSA agents didn't know Bartowski and he wouldn't know them as long as he couldn't flash on them. Both of the interrogators wore masks and neither knew Chuck was NSA.

Chuck knew he'd been tranked. The funky taste in his mouth was something he remembered from another failed mission and Walker had pulled his ass out of the fire that time. He sighed. No cavalry would be riding to his rescue this time. These guys were probably Fulcrum. He opened his eyes a crack to see if he could tell where he was but his head was in a hood. He knew he was hanging from a pipe or conduit by his cuffed hands but at least his feet could touch the floor this time. He worried they'd also snatched Carina.

Their instructions were simple. Break him and find out whom he worked for. No marks to the face. Just the body. And avoid broken ribs if at all possible. They didn't need a punctured lung to complicate things.

He heard a voice say, 'He's awake. Let's begin.' and he knew he was in deep shit.

The first few punches were kidney punches and then a few to the stomach and ribcage. After a minute or two the same voice that said he was awake asked, 'Who do you work for, Bartowski?' He didn't answer and thirty seconds later the punches began again, ribs, kidneys, stomach and a shot to the groin.

"Who do you work for, Bartowski?" Thirty seconds later the cycle was repeated when he didn't answer, except this time they used sap gloves. After what seemed like a lifetime but was only three or four minutes, the beating stopped and the voice asked again, "Who do you work for, Bartowski?"

Chuck knew that if he said one word he'd never stop talking. He couldn't catch his breath and that probably meant the pinching in his chest was from broken ribs. Oh, joy. Soon they'd start breaking bones, ripping out fingernails, crushing parts he treasured. He wasn't a coward but he wasn't a brave man, either. If things got worse, he'd dump the intersect and hope his consciousness went with it, leaving these Fulcrum bastards with a brain-dead problem on their hands.

His biggest fear was that they had Carina and would use her as a bargaining chip. He couldn't let anything happen to her. He owed Casey so much and it was only fair he save Carina if he could. If they brought her in, he'd dump. No questions, no delays. Hopefully she'd come out of this OK.

Casey touched his face and nodded to the two NSA agents.

He couldn't see the punches coming. His head was in a canvass bag or a sack of some kind. The first punch shocked him and he felt his nose break again. He cried out and then bit down on his lip to stop any further sounds. If he said anything…

After fifteen minutes Casey motioned the two NSA agents out of the room. Either Chuck was unconscious or really good at pretending he was. He jerked the canvass bag off his head and gasped. His nose was broken, he'd bitten through his lower lip at some point and his nose was broken. With each exhalation a bit of blood trickled down his chin from his nose and lip.

He walked out into the passageway below the hotel. Above them vacationers enjoyed the hotel and the island unaware of the travesty that had just occurred. Casey told the two agents to 'dump him where he'll be found quickly' and walked back to his apartment behind the hotel. He planned on calling the general, resigning and then getting shit-faced. He'd never been so ashamed of being an NSA agent.

* * *

The whole Fulcrum meeting was a ruse to test the new download and to verify the 'loyalty' of one Agent Charles Bartowski. He'd tried to talk the general out of it, telling her drugs could obtain the same result with far less hassle but she was adamant. "Put him in a real life situation and make him talk. I don't care if you almost kill him. We have to be sure of his loyalties."

He turned on his cell and found more than 10 messages from Carina. Another person he'd used and abused for the damned job.

"Carina, I've been busy with hotel stuff, you know, my cover. What's the big deal?"

She was frantic. She'd been in the bathtub and fallen asleep and the cold water woke her. She got out and got dressed and called for Chuck but the room was empty. He was waiting for room service to deliver their dinner. He wouldn't leave her without telling her. She was frightened almost to the point of tears.

"You know how he is. He's probably in the lobby arcade playing those idiot games he loves. Check your purse and see if you have any quarters left. Call me when he shows up, Hansen. I got to work my cover."

Six hours later the Bermudan police contacted the Southampton Princess Hotel and asked if they were missing a guest. They'd found Chuck's keycard in his pocket but no other ID.

**Queen's Hospital  
****Hamilton, Bermuda**

Carina didn't need to fake tears for her cover. She'd gotten a call at 4am from Casey telling her he'd been found, beaten and unconscious, by the local police and he'd been taken to Queen's Hospital and to meet him in the lobby ASAP.

She'd peppered him with questions the entire 20-minute drive to Hamilton. Bermuda moves at night. All deliveries, maintenance and roadwork are done at night to minimize disruption to the Island's tourists and money. The drive should have taken half as long.

Casey identified himself to the police officer in the ER and then took Carina to see her 'husband'. Chuck was on a blood-covered table while a doctor stitched up his lip. He'd bitten through it sometime during the beating rather than talk. He'd gotten 22 stitches on his outer lip and 34 inside. He'd also bitten his tongue in several places. He got 5 stitches above one eye and butterflies over the other. They'd moved his nose back to where it belonged. He was a mess to look at.

The doctor explained everything that they'd done and explained that they wanted to hold him for a psych evaluation and to ensure he suffered no ill affects from the several hits he'd taken to the head. The doctor looked at a piece of paper and said the only thing they could get out of him was a repeated phrase "Won't betray my country. Execute Kappa Epsilon partition drop. Execute Epsilon Pi data dump" followed by other words no could understand and then a series of numbers.

Casey blanched and then turned to Carina and said, "Take care of him, Mrs. Carmichael, I need to report this to my superiors. I'll be right back. The hotel will pay for everything. Don't worry."

He looked at his watch and called Beckman. Fuck the time difference and fuck her too.

"Beckman, secure."

"Casey, secure. General, he didn't say a single word, not one. He bit through his tongue in several places and clear through his lower lip but he never uttered a single word."

"Damn it. We'll need to…"

"He thought we were Fulcrum, General Beckman. He dumped the intersect. He's semi-conscious and the doctor said that he uttered, "I won't betray my country" and then he must have executed the dump. He didn't break, General."

"The intersect? He dumped it? Are you sure?"

"All he says now is the dump execution sequence. The intersect is gone and Bartowski's... The lights are on but no one's answering the door. Satisfied now? This entire elaborate charade was for nothing. You've never believed him. He warned you about Graham, he told you about the corrupted files and he told you what he'd do if pushed. Well, we pushed him."

"Bring him to Meade, Colonel Casey, for examination. If he's as you say he is, he'll be pensioned off and relocated back to Los Angeles. I'll assign a watcher but it'll be part-time at best. He was right, you know? We found the corrupted files hidden in 2.4, a last surprise from Graham. You and Agent Hansen will be required to monitor him for a few months and then we'll find a watcher for him."

He disconnected the call. He hung up on the General. He had his orders and he'd follow them.

* * *

Two days later Carina, Casey and Bartowski flew back to DC. Chuck had not spoken a word since the attack nor did he give any indication he was anything other than…gone.

'_You really think we can pull this off?'_

'_Yep. All I have to do is keep my mouth shut until we're in DC.'_

'_We're so screwed. You can't stay quiet for an hour let alone a day-long flight, psych eval and the facing the bitch Goddess herself.'_

'_Well, shadow, if you were marooned on a desert island, what kind of sandwich would you want to take along if it was the only thing you'd ever eat again?'_

'_You're kidding me, right?'_


	17. A Chicken Does NOT Have Lips

TheGame15

_A/N: Charah lovers – BEHOLD! Well, it's the beginning.  
__Armor-Plated-Rat_

* * *

T/N: It's near the end of the chapter but please read the whole thing. I have two dissertation seminars so this is it until I get back out here to the boonies. I'll be in NO until Mardi Gras break. You damyankees enjoy your snow. Thks. NF

p.s. The quote is mine. Think about it.

_**In search of a Rose you sometimes overlook an orchid.**_  
-Carol Harris

* * *

**Chuck's New Condo  
****Venice, CA**

It had been more than a month since the 'Bermuda Bash' and the NSA had fallen all over themselves providing the retired agent with a leased condo and full medical retirement. He'd been required to submit to constant testing when he returned from Bermuda and all he had to do to convince them he was 'impaired' was simply keep his big mouth shut.

He was escorted back to L.A. by Casey and Hansen. They had not reconciled their differences and since Bermuda things had only gotten worse. If Chuck was mute, Carina was an iceberg to all but Chuck. For some reason she felt responsible for his 'impairment' and spent as much time as possible talking with him trying to provoke a response. She'd even tried seduction. It was very frustrating and she took her frustrations out on her partner, Casey.

"He's not a moron, or an idiot or any other pet names you care to call him. He's just incapable of speaking after the beating. You were there, Casey, you saw what…don't walk away from me like that! You saw what tests they performed and what the shrinks and MDs said. It's psychosomatic. It's hysterical conversion. All the shrink mumbo jumbo for 'he won't speak because he's afraid he'll say the wrong thing.' That's the bottom line."

Casey had walked away because he was afraid Bartowski had somehow learned that he was in charge of the beating and had told Carina. He couldn't face her when he knew his face would broadcast his guilt. And he felt horribly guilty even though he was only following orders. Yeah, the SS used that line in Nuremberg during the trials.

"I said I was sorry. It's habit. I like him but it's habit. I've always called him names.'

"Well, stop it. It's totally unprofessional. We're only going to be here a few months at the most. You heard Beckman. Then he gets a watcher and I go back to the DEA and pick up where I left off."

They both refused to discuss their failed relationship. She knew it was over even though she loved him. He knew it was over because she couldn't tell him why she wouldn't marry him. He loved her. She loved him. It was complicated.

Chuck listened in silent amusement. Amazing the things people said in front of him because he didn't speak. They seemed to think he was deaf also. And the smartest people would talk really slowly and loudly when they found out he couldn't speak. Amazing.

'_Boss, I think we need to discuss your miraculous recovery if we're going to make any headway on the plan.'_

_'Not now, dude. Listen to those two. It's like I'm not even here. Hey, I'm not dead or anything, am I? You'd know and tell me, right?'_

_'You need to quit taking those damned Xanax things. They make me nauseous and you stupid. Can't you palm them or hide them? Carina's not that smart.'_

_'Fine. But I want to do one thing before I go away. I want those two unhappily married. I can't think of two people who don't deserve…yeah, I'll quit taking them. They make us weird.'_

_'Speak for yourself. I'm not the one who can't talk. Have you said anything at all, even in private?'_

_'Nope. Not the plan.'_

_'What if you can't speak any longer? You did have the shit kicked out of you.'_

* * *

He walked out and got into Ellie's old piece of crap car she'd lent him until he got one of his own and drove over to the Burbank post office. He was curious to see how many of the four proposals he'd submitted had been rejected. He was betting on all four and not expecting anything at all.

He opened his box and saw a stack of brown certified mail notifications. Since they were only good for 15 days he figured they'd been returned.

He stood in line and gave the clerk at the counter his notifications. He walked back behind some partitions and then pulled two banded stacks of envelopes out of a cubby hole, verified the address and handed Chuck the 8-inch thick packets. He signed for 8 certified letters (the rest had been returned) and left.

He drove back to his condo in Venice and then sat down at the kitchen table and sorted them out between companies and then sorted the companies by oldest to newest. He set the certifieds aside.

* * *

Company A asked him to call them and set up an appointment for further discussion in their first letter. The second letter asked if he'd received the first and to please call. The third asked if he was represented by an attorney and should they be dealing with him or her? The last letter alluded to a returned certified letter and almost begging him to accept their offer.

Companies B, C and D were pretty much the same.

Company A was making a final attempt to partner with him and offered $600,000 up front and listed a ton of goodies they'd make available if he agreed as well as game royalties and an option on the next 3 installments of the game. They also wanted to lease his AI programs for other products by other authors. The total package was a little over $2 million.

He started laughing out loud, giggling, chuckling and hooting, when he finished the first certified letter.

Carina ran in from the kitchen convinced he was seizing. He was rolling on the floor waving the letter around in the air. She tried to put a pair of chopsticks into his mouth to keep him from swallowing his tongue.

He spit out the chopsticks and hugged her, still laughing. He handed her the letter and then sat down to see what the others were offering.

She grabbed her cell and called Casey.

"Casey, secure"

"Get your ass over to Chuck's apartment, Johnny. It's a miracle!"

Casey walked across the common area ignoring the sweeties sunbathing around the pool. He knew that at least two of them were watching the watchers.

He didn't bother to knock. He stopped and grinned. Chuck Bartowski was laughing and hugging Carina. He wasn't jealous. He was happy his friend could at least laugh.

Casey reviewed the final letters from each company. EA looked to be the best but there was a lot of legal crap he knew nothing about.

"Chuck, you need an entertainment lawyer. Look one up on the internet and we'll make an appointment for you and Carina can go be your mouthpiece."

Chuck fished through the other stack of mail and pulled out a letter from a law firm recommended by EA. It was a good place to start. The letter was from…Miranda Booth. He saw the veil of sadness cover his friend's face for a moment and then he was all smiles again.

_'Well, at least you can make noises. Speech shouldn't be a problem, should it?'_

_'Don't know, shadow, it's still too early. We'll wait a bit longer. Hey, thanks for the assist on the AI. You know I call it 'The Shadow' in your honor.'_

_'Yeah, where do you think you got the idea?'_

Carina called the attorney and explained that Chuck had a temporary handicap and couldn't speak but he'd authorized her to speak for him although he'd be in attendance. The lawyer immediately wanted to know if the impediment was physical or mental?

"He was an NSA agent and was hurt in the line of duty and is now retired for medical reasons. He's not nuts, crazy or anything like that. It was a very traumatic experience and he's coping, better than most people would considering what happened to him."

They set up an appointment to meet and discuss options on Friday morning.

Casey rolled his eyes and Chuck looked pensive. Casey noticed he was looking like that a lot lately. Like he was having a whole other conversation in his head. Maybe he was nuts.

Carina called Ellie to tell her the great news and they immediately were invited to dinner. He didn't see Ellie and Devon as much as he'd have liked and he was anxious to see his sister's face when she saw the amount of money her brother the broken spy could still earn.

Carina excused herself and went into Chuck's bathroom and called Sarah Walker. She knew she'd be so proud of him.

"Sarah, don't say a word. Chuck just sold a game for $2.5 million! Um, I can't let you speak to him, Sarah. He…he can't talk right now. No, nothing's wrong. I'm not lying to you."

"Damn it, Walker, he was captured by Fulcrum and almost beaten to death but he didn't say a single word. He triggered an intersect dump and almost lost his mind. No, he's fine. He's just got issues with talking. It's 'conversion hysteria' or something."

"Broken ribs, nose, bruised kidneys, broken cheekbone and a lot of lacerations around his eyes and stitches where he bit through his lip. They're mending and Sarah, he laughed today! The first sound he's made since Bermuda almost 6 weeks ago."

"Sarah, don't cry, please? I didn't call you to make you sad. I wanted you to be able to share in his happiness. So how are you? Still in Baltimore at St. Johns'? Another operation? When? Would you like to see him, Sarah? He has to go back to HQ for more testing and evaluation next month. He's medically retired but still 'consults' and nothing is final until testing is done. Please, Sarah. He misses you so much. Fine. I'll tell him to forget all about you and find another woman to be with. That'll really make him happy."

_That woman is so damned stubborn! She must be related to Casey._

**Law Offices of Miranda Booth & Associates  
****Beverly Hills, CA  
****Friday **

Carina had dressed professionally although Chuck could tell she felt uncomfortable around all the high-priced lawyers and their fancy clothes. Chuck wore his Armani and his Armadillos. Carina had almost had a heart attack but he just ignored her. Sometimes he wished he were deaf instead of pretending to be mute.

Ms. Booth's secretary came out of her private office and offered refreshments but they declined. Carina was nervous and afraid a coffee cup would rattle in its saucer. Chuck just grinned. The purpose of the secretary's offer was to 'scope out the nerd' before meeting the attorney.

The secretary came out and apologized because her boss was 'running late' and would be with them momentarily. Chuck pulled up his cuff and checked the time. The secretary spotted the Rolex and Armani and went back to her boss' office. Two minutes later they were ushered in to her 'august presence'. Chuck was stunned.

Miranda Booth was the spitting image of Jill Roberts. Carina had noticed how he tensed and had grabbed his arm stopping his knee-jerk reaction of reaching for his non-existent weapon. Ms. Booth noticed his reaction also and commented.

"Is he always this…prepared to do battle?" Her tone was jocular but her eyes never left Chuck's.

"You bear a startling resemblance to someone who has tried several times to kill my partner or his associates. I'm sure you can understand his reaction. I was just a second behind him. He's not armed. I am."

"Partner? As in romantic, business, spy stuff?"

"Ex-partner. More of a bodyguard and communicator for him now. And it's only temporary until some things get sorted out at the Agency. He's a consultant now but will be fully retired in a month subject to recall if his skill set is required."

"I see. Well, let's get down to basics. Will Mr. Bartowski ever regain his ability to speak?"

A rarely used voice scratched out, "Hey, Booth, Mr. Bartowski is sitting here. Talk to me, not her. She can answer for me. Hurts to talk." Carina squealed and hugged him and then looked very embarrassed. Ms. Booth thought it was…endearing. Partners or lovers? Questions to be answered.

"I'm sorry. Now, Mr. Bartowski, you have four very considerable offers here. If you leave me the contracts, I'll give you my recommendation before the close of business. I'll be in touch." She dismissed them. She was done with them.

Chuck stood to his full height and reached across the desk and took back the files he'd copied for her. "No one dismisses me. I'm the client, you're the bottom feeder who needs my 10%. No thank you, Ms. Booth. Have a nice scum-sucking day. Carina, let's go. Get the General on the horn and get the Agency to make a recommendation. These scars must count for something." His throat ached and his voice sounded like an old man's.

He pushed Carina out the door and through the foyer and was almost to the elevator when a very upset Miranda Booth showed up in hot pursuit.

"Mr. Bartowski, I am not used to being so…insulted."

"I'm sure you're not. Most people are intimidated by all this expensive crap but I'm not. It's just window dressing that says 'someone important and powerful works here. Remember your place.' That's all. Now, get out of my way, please. The yellow pages are full of lawyers. I'm sure at least one of them is courteous and interested in my situation as opposed to their fee. And having to argue with you is absolutely killing my throat. I haven't spoken in six weeks and it's hard."

He stepped around Miranda Booth and pushed Carina into the elevator before she shot the lawyer. Booth jumped in after them. She looked at Chuck with tears in her eyes.

"I'm getting divorced today at 4pm. I'm sorry. I don't mean to be such a bitch but it's hard to lose someone you loved once, especially when they don't care anymore. Please, let me review the contracts and I'll set up a meeting and we'll go over them. Are you free Saturday or do you have spy stuff to do?"

Chuck looked down at Carina who was avoiding his eyes. "Carina…do I have any spy stuff to do…on Saturday?" It was killing him to talk. He desperately needed to cough.

"No, Chuck, I think you're free. Just remember your other obligation."

Chuck looked curiously at her for a moment and then it dawned on him. She was jealous and also protective. And she meant Sarah Walker, perhaps.

"Fine, Ms. Booth. Call me. You have my cell number."

"It's Miranda and I will."

She got off the elevator and when the door closed Carina attacked. "_It's Miranda and I will._ My God, Chuck, are you nuts? You cannot let this woman represent you. She's…"

He started to cough and then managed "Carina, I like her. She's hard and professional and she'll do me a good job. Now, I have to get something to drink and then something for this throat. It's killing me to talk. So lecture on. I'm done talking." She was a kindred spirit of sorts. '…it's hard to lose someone you loved once, especially when they don't care anymore…' Yeah, he could relate quite well to that.

_'Chuck, was that the plan? Wait until someone pissed you off and then talk?'_

_'No. I'm tired of being dismissed by people in power who think I have nothing significant to offer to be worth their precious moment of time. But it was sooo worth it.'_

_'Yeah, I saw how 'worth it' she was. Man, she did look exactly like Jill. Would have been weird if Larkin was her ex, weird.'_

_'He's dead. Don't speak ill of the dead, shadow. Well, there are exceptions but he's not one of them. Now Graham? Yeah. Hope he enjoys Hell.'_

_'So, now that we're 'comfortable' as the rich say, what's the plan?'_

_'Same as it was before. Drag the blonde back where she belongs. Man but she's stubborn. She's related to Casey some how. And that's another problem to solve: Casey & Carina. He's so guilt-ridden and she's the 'whore with the heart of gold'. No emotional entanglements my ass.'_

'_So we're heading off to Baltimore and doing the whole 'officer and a gentleman' thing? Chicks like that!'_

_'No. She'd beat me to death with her sippy straw. I have to make her come to me, it has to be her damned idea, her want, her desire. You don't make an elemental force of Nature like my Sarah do anything she doesn't want to do. I got to make her want…'_

_'Uh, Chuck…what if she really doesn't love us? What if she…what if it **was **all just a cover with her?'_

_'Then there's always the Odessa Option.'_

_'I'm going back to my box. You better work on Plan B, moron, because Plan A doesn't stand a chance. And I'm not going to Odessa. Leave me on a zip disk or a really big flash drive. Oh, hey, buddy, I almost forgot. Happy 31st birthday. Think Beckman sent us a card?'_

_'Does a chicken have lips?'_


	18. Happy Birthday Cowardly Lion

TheGame16

_T/F: The Causeway's backed up and I can't even get past the airport. I'll load these next few until the party eases up a bit. Worse than Mardi Gras._

_The quote is mine, not his. I'm in a bad mood & lonely so y'all suffer for it.  
__NF_

_Hell's afloat in lover's tears._  
- Dorothy Rothschild Parker

* * *

**Casa Woodcomb  
****Patio**

Chuck sat alone on a bench on the patio nursing his fifth Corona and wishing he was anywhere but where he was. He was incredibly lonely and that brought on a bad case of the 'poor me's' that he always hated in others but seemed to tolerate in himself.

Had it been 5 years since he'd gotten the intersect? Five years since he'd met her, three since he'd lost her? His life was slipping through his fingers and he was helpless to do much about it.

Miranda had been a Godsend but He took her back. He'd always heard that when good people died it was because He had need of them in heaven. That was a bunch of crap. He did it because He could. He did it to show mere mortals that He had the power, that they'd better not be too happy or too content.

'_I need to quit drinking. I'm not a happy drunk.'_

'_No, Chuck, you're a crying, whining, selfish and insecure son of a bitch when you're drunk. You blame God for what man did. That's pathetic. And so are you. You've got new opportunities and a future most people can only dream of. And you sit out here doing the 'coulda, shoulda, woulda' dance.'_

'_You know, I can erase you with a thought.'_

'_So does that make you God?'_

'_Point. No more drinking. You can't buy it anyhow, you can only rent it. Must drain the lizard'._

Ellie watched her brother sitting out on the patio and inside she cried for him. He was miserable and now, with everything falling into place for him, he was too bitter to enjoy it.

He'd been incredibly happy with Sarah and almost as happy when he brought Miranda home for the first time. Sarah left and Miranda was taken; each of them ripped a piece from him making him less than he'd been. She toyed with the idea of hooking him up with one of the new residents but she knew he'd just hate it. She sighed and went looking for her husband to get her good mood back.

Chuck pulled his cell phone and looked up a number and dialed it.

"I need reservations on the first flight out of LAX for BWI, first class if you have it."

* * *

**BWI  
****Baltimore, MD**

He turned his cell back on when he arrived in Baltimore. It was Saturday afternoon here; he'd lost 4 hours to the time change. He rented a car and drove to St. John's with the intention of confronting Sarah and ending this dance one-way or the other.

He was approaching the exit when his cell rang. Carina.

"Hey."

"Hey, yourself. We have an appointment this morning, in 20 minutes, with your new lawyer and where the hell are you?"

"Baltimore, Carina. I'm going to either come back with her or it's over. I can't live like this anymore. Mira filled the void but she's gone. I need her, Carina, and if I can't have her I need to know that now, not when she feels like telling me. Can you understand me?"

"Yeah, Chuck. I do. But don't get your hopes up. She's broken and she's hurting. Chuck, honey, don't hate me but I've spoken to her many times since Bucharest. She can barely walk but the pain is incredible. Her last surgery was a failure and she's in a wheelchair, Chuck. I didn't tell you because I promised her I wouldn't. She won't see you and if she does, she'll tell you 'no' and mean it. She loves you but doesn't want to burden you with someone who's not even half of the woman you remember."

"She'll see me. I haven't come all this way to turn back now. She'll need to tell me to my face, not through the damned door or over the phone. I'll see the truth in her eyes, Carina, and if she doesn't love me then I'll leave. I have to go, I'm at the hospital now."

"Chuck, she's not in the hospital. She's been discharged and is an outpatient for physical and occupational therapy. She lives nearby. I'll call you right back and leave the address on your voice mail. Don't expect a lot, Chuck, she's in pain and nothing they can do will totally alleviate it. Don't be too hard on her, please?"

"Fine. I'll see you tonight. Make my apologies to Miranda Booth and reschedule. Tell her I had to go spy on Nancy Pelosi. Lie to her if it makes you feel better. You're pretty good at concealing things." He hung up, pissed beyond belief. His cell rang and he let it go to voicemail to pick up the address.

He found the complex with no trouble. It was the one with all the handicapped parking spots and the ramps instead of stairs. He found her building unit and then parked and walked through the cold rain to the wrought iron security gate and rang the bell for her apartment. He was soaked and shaking from the cold. It was late October and Baltimore was not California. He hadn't thought that far ahead.

The speaker on the wall near the gate asked 'Who is it?' He hesitated and then threw caution to the wind.

"It's me, Sarah, Chuck Bartowski. Please open the gate, Sarah."

"Um, ah, wait a minute. Can you come back tomorrow? I'm really not feeling well." She was in a panic. She was still in her pajamas and had not combed her hair and had no makeup on.

"No. I have to get back to L.A. Sarah, please. This will only take a minute of your time. Please."

"I don't want to see you, Chuck. I'm sorry that you came all this way. You should have called me and saved yourself all that trouble and money. I don't, ah, don't want to see you. Go away before I call security. Please. Please just go."

"I flew all this way to ask you one question but I need to see your face, your eyes. Please, Sarah, I need…need to know. It's been almost three years and I've changed and you've changed but how I feel hasn't changed at all. I've been settling, settling for less than I could have. Please, Sarah, sixty seconds and then I'm gone forever…"

"No. I told you that if you got your feelings hurt it would be your own damned fault. Now go. I don't love you. I've never loved you. I told you that before and now I'm telling you again…I do not love you. I never have. I have someone in my life now. Someone I met here and…and it's serious and we're talking about marriage. That's why I sent back the bracelet. I should have done it sooner but I'd been busy. Goodbye, Chuck."

"But Sarah, please…"

"I have to go. He's due in from work and we're going out to dinner and a movie. Chuck, we're living together. I've moved on with my life. You should do the same. I've got to shower and do my hair and nails and I really don't have the time to deal with this anymore.

She clicked off the intercom and whispered, "Goodbye, my dearest love. Goodbye." _'I did the right thing. I can't be a woman to him. I can't even stand or walk without pain and I'd just drag him down with me.' _

* * *

Chuck turned to walk back to his car, shaken and wondering how things had gone to shit in such a short time. A security guard came by in a golf cart and asked him what he was doing.

"I'm an agent with the NSA and I've been trying to make an appointment to interview an agent on medical retirement regarding a case I've been assigned. I'm going to reach into my coat pocket and take out my ID so take your hand off that damned taser."

He checked out Chuck's ID and then asked who he was here to interview.

"Sarah Walker. She said she didn't have time. She was getting ready to go out for the evening with her live-in boyfriend. I guess I'll have to come back Monday."

"Ms. Walker? A live-in boyfriend? No way. She's a shut-in. Gets food delivered and never goes out except to catch the St. John's shuttle for her physical therapy. Pretty lady. Uses a walker sometimes but mostly a wheelchair. I take her the mail every day. She's in a lot of pain but she's coping. Sad. No family. Never a visitor and I don't think anyone's written to her either. Most she gets is government mail and bills. Sad. And her being so young and pretty. Well, not so young looking now."

He'd hit the mother lode with this talkative security guard. She'd lied to him. Everything was a lie. She was really good. She'd convinced him. Well, she had shit in her mess kit. She was toast. It would only be a matter of time. He'd have his Sarah. But first he had to fix her.

* * *

**NSA HQ  
FT Meade, MD  
Monday 6am**

General Beckman walked into the foyer of her offices and stopped, shocked. Bartowski was sitting in a chair sound asleep. He looked…stressed and tired.

She gently shook him and then stepped back. She knew how agents reacted to being startled and Bartowski was no exception. He stood up and reached into his coat for his weapon before his eyes were even open. He'd lost none of his edge, just his voice and the damned intersect.

His voice was hoarse sounding and he'd been told it might take a while before it returned to normal. Lack of use, they said.

"Morning, General Beckman. Such a deal I have for you." He smiled a totally different smile. She hadn't seen it since Dawson died.

"So, you can talk again. I'll bet your handlers are ecstatic about that. What do you want?"

"Sarah Walker's complete medical files including x-rays, surgical notes and anything else you can give me."

She marked him with her hairy eyeball and sneered. "And why would I do that, soon-to-be-retired-Agent Bartowski?"

"Because I'll give you back your damned intersect for a year of uninterrupted service. You owe me, general, for Bermuda."

She sat down in a chair in the foyer, totally shocked and pleased. "Five years, with an option for another five if the new intersect craters like this one did."

"Nope. Three years, in NAS-LA, same team, international assignments acceptable, and the option to add one team member if I marry."

"Totally unacceptable. Five years and your conditions."

"Done. Draw up the contracts and I'll sign when I get her records. And please, not a word of this to her. If she knows it's me pulling the strings, she'll balk. Now, here's the plan…"

Diane Beckman and Chuck Bartowski left her office and walked down to the canteen. She'd been so involved she had missed her two cups of coffee and was feeling cranky. But she had what she wanted and it hadn't cost her much of anything. And she probably would have done it anyway if he'd explained why before starting to negotiate.

"So, you're independently wealthy now, why bother with government service?" She was genuinely curious.

"It's important work and it needs to be done. Someone needs to man the watchtowers while the people sleep safely. It's honorable work when taken in the proper perspective."

"Not always. There'll always be Bermudas, Chuck. Sometimes it's necessary. Unpleasant but necessary."

"I want an upgrade before I leave. The intersect needs refreshed and I need to talk to the techs about transmissions to L.A. instead of always coming in here. I'll have a lot to do both publicly and privately and I don't want to lose 2 days each month traveling."

"So, this game and AI you developed. It's going to be popular? Make you a lot of money? Then why endanger yourself. I know what you said but why? Between Chuck and Diane."

"My mother was an agent. My father was an asset. You figure it out. History repeats itself. I just want a happy ending this time around."

**LAX  
Los Angeles, CA  
Wednesday**

Carina met his flight and brought him up to date on the happenings around NSA-LA and mentioned that a very pissed-off Miranda Booth had called several times asking if he really was serious about the game contracts because he was 'pissing away a fortune with his antics'.

"She wants a face-to-face immediately upon your return. And she's called twice since I left to come pick you up. You better call her."

"Not now. Let's find a quiet place to get a coffee and then I have a lot to tell you. Most is good, some not so good for me but mostly excellent for you and Colonel Grunt."

"Humph. 'Grunt' is right. Chuck, I'm afraid I'm going to, what's your phrase? Yeah, piss in the soup. I want to go back to the DEA. I'm wasted here and I'm bored. No offense, but I'm bored spitless sitting around watching you do nothing at all."

He flashed without the usual fluttery eye thing. And smiled. Carina was immediately suspicious.

"Cornelia? Your middle name is Cornelia? And you had the frikkin' nerve to make fun of 'Chuck'?"

"You flashed? The inters…the damned thing is back? How? Baltimore. You got a reload. Why? Your whole life is yours again and you threw it all away for what?"

"For a chance at happiness. Now, before you totally melt down, I've never _not_ had the um thing. I just kept it quiet. I wanted out. I kept quiet. I never said a word. I didn't have to. I just watched all of you jump to the same damned conclusion: he's dumped the intersect and he's a vegetable. Well, apparently I can't anymore. The shadow changed the 'off' coding and I can't find it. I just prayed they'd kill me before I talked."

"Then all that crap before with Beckman was an act?"

"No. I did dump it at Meade but I couldn't in Bermuda. It's just that it liked being in me so it made it so I couldn't purge it. It likes me. We have some incredible conversations. He kept me alive during the beating. He kept me sane. He was the one who mumbled all that crap. I was down deep somewhere hiding. I'm not proud of that but it's what happened. I just couldn't stand it any longer and executed the dump and it stopped me and sent me into the box. That's where it stays most times."

It was an unbelievable line of crap but he'd been around consummate liars for five years and some of it would eventually wear off onto him. Besides, it fed their expectations of the cowardly lion persona he'd carefully crafted.

She just blinked at him and then asked the question. "So, did you get to talk to Sarah? I don't see her so I suppose it's over, right? That was the deal. She came with you or you were done with her?"

He sighed and she waited for his inevitable emotional breakdown. And waited. And waited.

"Chuck, you OK?"

"She told me she had moved on, was living with someone and that they were talking about marriage. And some other things I'm not going to talk about. Then she told me goodbye and I left. I didn't actually get to see her. We talked over the intercom at the security gate."

"Oh, Chuck, I'm so sorry. But I warned you. I told you she wouldn't see you." _'Damn you to Hell, Sarah Walker. You lied to him instead of just blowing him off gently. God forbid you should tell him the truth. I hate you.'_

Chuck looked down into his coffee cup as if all the answers were there. He needed Carina to guilt Walker up to the max if this was going to work. She had to be remorseful and full of second thoughts so she'd leap at the opportunity an anonymous Chuck was going to make happen.

"So…you're back on active duty? Beckman took you back?"

"Yeah, so don't plan on going anywhere unless you really want to, Carina. We make a good team. If Casey gives you a hard time, he's gone. No questions asked."

"No. We'll keep it out of the team dynamics. Don't worry about it. But Chuck, what about you? What are you going to do now? Is it really over between you?"

"Between us? Carina, apparently I've been mistaken for almost five years. There never was a 'between us'. She told me when she left Burbank but I didn't listen. 'If you get your feelings hurt it's your own damned fault'."

"I'm just a stupid deluded, love sick moron who wasted all this time chasing after something that never existed in the first place."

"But you had Miranda, Chuck. You loved her, I know you did. You couldn't fool her _and_ Casey."

"I loved Miranda but lost her. I didn't love her enough though. I would have married her but I wouldn't have loved her like she deserved to be loved, completely and without reservation because I was still hung up on Walker. I was wrong twice. So, Bartowski's back on the prowl. Look out, ladies of L.A." That should stir her to act if nothing else did.

"Well, you seem…at peace or something close. No pulling out your hair, no beating yourself up, no crying…"

"It wouldn't change anything, would it? I mean, really, Carina, there's a point at which you just have to say 'uncle' and I've reached it. Now, let's talk about Miranda Booth and her hysterical phone calls."

'_That was pretty impressive. Especially the part about the love sick moron. I thought that was pretty accurate._

'_Just remember, you never deleted the dump codes, shadow. Play nice with the grieving jilted lover. I am sooo fragile.'_

'_So you're back on the block until Walker comes back? That's going to break some hearts. Please tell me you're not going to become a man-whore or something? I get tired of hiding in the box when you…'_

'_Ach! That's enough. Don't want to think about you and me and a woman…you're just a perverted voyeur.'_

'_Well, you keep telling me I'm another facet of you so…sticks and stones, Charles, sticks and stones.'_

'_Roast beef.'_

'_What?'_

'_Roast beef. If I could only have one kind of sandwich on the deserted island it would be Roast Beef…yeah, with…'_

'_Jesus, OK, I'm going, I'm going… Don't get out of the van Chuck' is like 'go to the box, Shadow…'_


	19. Consultations and Celebrity Status

TheGame17

_**Moving on is simple. What it leaves behind is hard.**_ – Anonymous

* * *

**Law Offices of Miranda Booth & Associates  
Beverly Hills, CA  
Tuesday**

She was nervous. He'd missed the appointment on Saturday and his 'partner' finally told her he'd been 'recalled' and was in 'consultation' regarding operations planned and pending with his Agency. She'd been upset, OK, she'd been pissed off that he hadn't called himself until she realized that his was no ordinary job. She knew that from the healing scars around his eyes and lower lip. Oh, that lip. She knew in her core that someday she would feel that lip and its partner on her. The look in his eyes when he first saw her had set her to smoldering.

And here she was standing at the elevator waiting on him. She'd been standing here for the last few minutes like some 1st year associate waiting to pounce on the potential client and claim the catch. When the elevator opened he smiled at her and she was lost.

Something monumental had happened to him over the weekend and what ever it had been had left its mark on him. He looked tired but happy. And the smile included his eyes for the first time. He apologized for missing their appointment on Saturday but said that something he'd been involved in for the past five years had finally ended and all those nasty loose ends had been woven back into the fabric where they belonged.

When they'd finished their discussions and he'd reviewed and agreed with her recommendations as well as approving a few changes she'd thought to include to protect his intellectual property rights, she asked him who he was going to use as his attorney of record so she could forward her case file to him.

"Ms. Booth, don't you want to represent me? I thought that's what I was doing here."

"Well, really, you need a contracts firm more than an entertainment lawyer. From this point on it's all just boiler plate and lunches and $500 per hour lawyers arguing over minutia to pad their hours."

"So you're incompetent in that area?" He was confused. A lawyer was a lawyer.

"I am certainly competent but surely you want to deal with a firm…"

"Do you or do you not represent me in these matters? 'Yes, Chuck, I do' or 'No, Mr. Bartowski, I don't'."

"I will be happy to continue representing you, Mr. Bartowski, in these matters." She was thrilled. A fat fee to catch up on her bills and a gorgeous new client she wouldn't be ashamed or afraid to be seen in public with. No more coke-snorting singers or bands that had little or no respect for what she did. Despite his rant at their first meeting, she knew she was respected.

"Good. Now I need to clear up a few things and you need to hear and then immediately forget what I've said. Agent Hansen is my partner, not my lover or girl friend or former anything. It is purely professional although she is my dearest friend and I trust her with my life. I no longer have any…um…attachments of a personal nature."

"Why are you telling me this, Mr. Bartowski? I never assumed any such thing about you and Ms. Hansen." So he was free? Was that a hint or just the passing of information?

"Yes, you did. And I wanted to set the record straight so that when I ask you to accompany me to business-related events where a 'date' is required you'll understand and be comfortable with it. Carina is very involved with another member of my team and I would not put her in a compromising position for anything."

"And one other thing, I answer fastest to 'Chuck', not Mr. Bartowski so if we're going to be working together, keep that in mind."

She walked him out to the elevator and asked the question she'd immediately thought when he made his 'personal nature' comment.

"So, Chuck, you have no 'personal…attachments'?"

"No. Not any more." The tone was winsome.

"Bad breakup?"

"She was killed. They were after me and she was 'collateral damage'. That's government for 'oops'."

She threw caution to the wind. "I have to go to an awards thing on Saturday night and I don't want to go alone. Would you accompany me, Chuck? Be my 'date'? I don't have many, no, any, guy friends who aren't clients or scumbags. Oh, shit, I didn't mean it that way." She turned red and Chuck just chuckled.

"I understand completely and I would be delighted. Call me later in the week with the particulars. I'll talk to you then."

"I'll get those revisions done and messenger them to you for signature. Thanks, Chuck. I'm looking forward to Saturday."

**Casa Woodcomb  
Westwood, CA  
Thursday Evening**

Chuck showed up at his sister's place unannounced and unanticipated with a banker's box full of files and x-rays and other medical crap. He was here to see Devon and Ellie in their professional capacities.

They were glad to see him, especially Ellie. She'd been worried about him since the night of his party but now he seemed like the old relaxed Chuck of the Sarah and Miranda days.

"OK. I need your professional help, guys. Review these files, ignore the patient for now, _**please**_, and give me your opinions of the treatments and what should be done next. It's important to me. I need to know what to do next, if anything."

"Now, I'll be back tomorrow night but this never happened. We can talk when you guys are finished and have formed opinions just please, no discussions tomorrow night in front of Casey and Carina."

He wondered what Ellie and Devon would think of his belated wedding present – he planned on paying off their student loans.

While they reviewed the files and commented to one another about this injury or that treatment attempt, his mind wandered to conversations earlier in the day with Carina and Casey.

**NSA-LA  
Wizard's Den  
Earlier Thursday**

"So, Chuck, how'd it go with the lawyer? You good to go with all that crap and can get your mind back on the job now?" Casey didn't really mean to sound so…Casey-ish but it was a habit.

"Yep. Got a clear mind and sound body now all we have to do is wait for the General to task us."

"Why? Why did you do it? You were free and clear and there were no strings attached. Another week or so and you'd have been 'ex-Agent Bartowski'."

"I got debts, Casey, obligations. And they're not the kind you pay off with money. You, of all people, should understand that. It's a matter of honor and duty. Like I told Beckman, someone has to man the watchtowers and this 'gift' is my weapon. Let it go, Casey."

"You can't bring them back, damn it. You need to get rid of the idea and guilt that somehow you could have stopped Graham. They didn't believe you. You couldn't do anything on your own. No one could have anticipated the Bucharest bombing. You got Graham, there's nothing else you could have done or could do now. There's no one left to punish."

He'd walked away from Chuck and down into the range. He'd blast some targets until he felt better.

* * *

Carina's conversation was a lot more personal. She'd had time to think since the airport and had called Walker that evening.

"_Hello, Carina, please don't yell at me. I don't need anyone else telling me how I destroyed him. I've been hearing myself do it all day._

"_I'm not going to yell. I'm not going to lecture. I called because I realized you don't have anyone to talk to about this. I called to listen, Sarah. You're my friend and you need one now."_

"_Carina, please, I don't want to talk about it. It's over and done with. He needs to move on with his life. I have."_

"_Yeah, the mysterious 'live-in boyfriend' you're thinking about marrying. You know, he quoted you, and I can just hear you saying it__**. 'If you get your feelings hurt it's your own damned fault.'**_

"_I told him that in Burbank the day I left. That exact phrase. I can't believe he remembered it."_

"_Sometimes, Sarah, we all forget who we're dealing with. Beckman did, and I know Casey does, all the time. We underestimate him, give him too little credit and too little praise."_

"_Yeah, but he'll find someone like the girl he was engaged to, the one who died, and he'll be fine, Carina. He's special and they'll realize it and he'll marry and finally be happy."_

"_Walker, you are an idiot. He told me about Miranda. He said he loved her and he would have married her but he'd never be able to love her the way he loved you. He's an even bigger idiot than you are. He's happy for you and that should tell you something about him. The idiot's happy you have someone, even if he lost you to that 'mystery man'."_

"_Carina, I don't want to talk about this any more. I have to put him behind me, back down where I keep all the precious memories and I have to get on with my life. Please don't call me again. I'm closing down this part of my life and starting a new one, hopefully I'll find peace and happiness."_

"_Walker, you need a friend. Don't shut me out."_

"_Bye, Carina."_

* * *

Carina hadn't slept well, rehashing the conversation with Walker and wishing it had ended better. So when she ran into Casey blasting targets in the range area she figured he'd had a similar problem.

"So, Colonel, you pissed off at Chuck, too?"

"No. Yes. I don't know why he did it. He was home free. We'd be out of his life and he could concentrate on being happy instead of 'serving the greater good'. The man's an idiot, a moron, a fool."

"Yeah, but he's our man and we're stuck with him. He's getting better about some things. I think he's reconciled himself to being alone for a while. He's not going to be so quick to trust outside of us. And he seems committed to doing the best he can. You can't fault him for that. He surprised me with his performance in Bermuda. I figured he'd cave when the first few punches landed."

"Well, he didn't, Hansen. He held on longer than anyone could have imagined and then he killed himself, or thought he was. That's the ultimate sacrifice and he didn't hesitate. You heard what he was mumbling. He figured he'd leave them a brain-dead living body or a corpse. That's balls, Hansen. The question I have is, can he do it again if it becomes necessary?"

"Then let's make sure he doesn't have to make that particular decision, Colonel. Let's do our jobs."

She left Casey killing paper targets and went in search of coffee and her other partner. She found him making coffee and whistling. She'd never heard him whistle and found it…charmingly immature.

"Hey, Chuck. How'd things go with the bloodsucker? Get all your legal stuff done?"

"Yeah. She's going to messenger the contracts to the front desk and I'll slip up and sign them. She's pretty smart. Found some loopholes and some additional revenue opportunities. She'll be easy to work with in the months ahead. We're going to some 'event' Saturday. She needed a date without strings and I have nothing planned so unless Beckman shits on my personal schedule, I'm out for the evening."

"Well, I suppose getting back into the swing of things is the right thing to do considering Walker's getting married."

"This isn't a date, Carina, it's two business people fulfilling each other's social needs for an evening. Don't put more import on it than that. I don't think I'm ready for the partying to begin quite yet. There are still issues for me to resolve and that's not going to happen overnight…if ever."

"But Chuck…"

"Change the subject. I will not discuss Walker or my social life with you now or in the foreseeable future. She made her decision. It killed me. I'm dead. Give me some time to kick myself back to life. All you women do is get close and then either betray me, play me or die. Give me some space, woman. I haven't hassled you about Casey, give me the same respect."

He got up and walked away, a cunning smile on his face. This was almost cruel but it had to be done this way.

Carina was sad and a little angry with her partner. She understood how he felt but didn't understand why he was cutting himself off from those who cared. She was not giving up on Walker. She'd continue to talk to her, to get her to see reason.

**Artists Award Dinner  
****Los Angeles, CA**

Miranda Booth's limo picked Chuck up at his apartment and took them to the dinner. It was actually more than a dinner. People in the entertainment business got together to award each other for doing something important, like…Chuck had no clue what it was for.

Chuck was impressed with Miranda Booth. She cleaned up nicely and obviously knew what to wear and how to wear it. She was wearing some off-the-shoulder midnight blue gown and wore a fortune in jewelry but it was her hair that impressed him. It was simply parted in the center and then pulled back into a bun. She looked very elegant and he told her so and then laughed when she blushed.

The limo pulled up to the curb and the driver opened the door and Miranda started to laugh at the look on his face. It was a red carpet 'presentation' walk complete with talking-head interviewers and hundreds of screaming people each one taking flash photos.

She took his hand in hers and squeezed it. "It's OK, Chuck. Just be yourself and smile when you say something. I forgot to warn you about this. This is good for business. Now, come on, at least look like you aren't armed and ready to kill. That would definitely be bad for your business."

Two things happened almost simultaneously as they walked, holding hands, toward the entrance. Some 'Lara' from 'ET' buttonholed them and prattled on about Miranda's dress and how stylish it looked and then turned to Chuck who was still holding Miranda's hand.

'Lara' started asking him a question when someone slipped from under the police barricade and ran toward Miranda with something in his hand that looked like a weapon. Chuck reacted as an agent would react. He stepped in from of Miranda, pushing her back behind him. He intercepted the man who was screaming out Miranda's name and 'you bitch!' and took him down with a quick wristlock and then pulled his weapon and put it in the man's ear. The camera mike caught the "SNAP" as the wrist broke.

"Chuck, NO! It's OK. He's my ex-husband. He's drunk. It's OK!"

Ten million people saw the takedown and subsequent events live and on the evening news while countless more saw it as the featured story on 'ET' for three consecutive nights.

The 'ET' talking-head had the cameraman close in on the couple as Chuck slowly stood upright as police came and took Miranda's ex away and another began insisting that Chuck surrender his weapon. Everyone avoided the sizzling and smoking section of the Red Carpet that was slowly dissolving from the acid spilled from container the attacker had thrown at Miranda.

Miranda was hanging on the arm holding the pistol and Chuck reached into his coat with his other hand and brought out the mysterious little black wallet and flipped it open. The cop's jaw dropped and he stepped back and then nodded and smiled at the cameras and went about his business.

"Mira, he was going to hurt you. I couldn't let that happen. I'm sorry if I embarrassed you in front of all these people. Maybe I should leave."

"No, you shouldn't. You did nothing wrong. He was going to hurt me or embarrass me. Thank you for protecting me, Chuck. Now, let's go inside and find our seats. And don't you start feeling guilty about doing the right thing. It's been a while since anyone cared enough to do something like that for me. Don't spoil it for me, please? Stay with me."

The police quickly took possession of the spilled container of acid that had burned a hole through the famous 'red carpet'.

The cameraman got too close and Chuck asked him politely to back off but he kept shoving the camera into the couple's faces and Chuck finally snapped at him that if he didn't 'take the fucking camera out of my face you'll need to visit a proctologist to change the film cartridge'. That phrase, with appropriate 'beep' was repeated constantly throughout any showing of the event. He instantly became an 'A list' celebrity among the Hollywood elite who were harassed by the press and paparazzi.

Every word, gesture and glance was captured for posterity and the celeb addicts. The phrase 'bodyguard' was used several times to describe Chuck and so were 'boyfriend', 'mystery man' and 'undercover cop'. Nothing could have prepared them for the mini-news conference that Miranda held in her office the following day. 'ET' was there, capturing it all on video.

"I'm Miranda Booth. Last night a client of mine, Charles Bartowski, accompanied me to the Arts Award Dinner. He's a software developer who recently developed and sold an incredibly real-life game to…"

She was interrupted continuously with questions about who he was, his background, were they 'involved' and when would they be able to interview him and when would his game be released.

She answered all the questions truthfully and coyly refused to comment on any personal involvement thereby ensuring a continuous coverage of the event and tremendous publicity for Chuck's game – tentatively called _Spies & Lovers._

* * *

**NSA-LA  
****Sunday afternoon**

Chuck had gone in to work to catch up on any dailies and also to escape the two or three photographers who were camped out at his apartment trying to take his picture.

"Well, Bartowski, what are you going to do to top last night's event? Maybe shoot the president on live TV?" Casey had watched the whole thing on the news and had recorded it and called Carina over to watch Chuck 'do his thing' while keeping a 'low profile'.

Chuck just sighed. "Casey, training kicked in. That container had acid in it and he was going to throw it in Booth's face. Their divorce was final last week and he didn't get as much money as he thought he should. There's already a protective order out on him. He was drunk but that acid would have scarred her for life. It burned a hole in their precious red carpet."

"Mind if I use your 'proctologist' line next time I'm being harassed by the paparazzi? I think that's what will stick in people's minds. That was a classic one-liner."

"Yeah, unless Beckman decides to use it at my execution."

"Hey, I already talked to her. She's cool with it. So is the Intelligence Committee. Just remember your cover is that you're a medically-retired NSA agent authorized to carry a weapon because of enemies you've made."

"Yeah. Booth 'neglected' to mention the 'medically-retired' part at her press conference. I'll need to get another attorney I suppose. So much for getting back into the swing of things as Carina recommended. I don't think I'll be dating for a while."

"Chuck, don't write her off just yet. She's hurting and confused."

"Miranda? What happened to her?"

"No, idiot. Walker. Don't give up on her. She's stubborn and thinks she's doing the right thing."


	20. Gasping and Grasping at Straws

TheGame18

"_**Life is a journey that doesn't end in death, it ends in heartache, not for the dead, but for the living.**__"_ – Anonymous

* * *

**Casa Woodcomb  
****Westwood, CA**

Devon had called Chuck saying that they'd completed their evaluation and needed to speak to him. When Chuck asked about their recommendations he heard Ellie in the background say 'Just tell the celebrity to get his famous fanny over here for dinner. Then we'll share the news.'

Dinner was great as usual and both Devon and Ellie were pestering him with questions regarding his relationship with Miranda Booth.

"There is none. It was a one off. A business 'date'. Nothing else. I haven't seen her since the Red Carpet Incident." That's what the press and ET were calling it. Chuck just called it a 'screwed up evening'.

"Chuck, I've watched that a hundred times. There's something there, I know it. I saw how she looked at you…"

"Ellie, enough. She's my lawyer. Nothing else. What about the files I gave you? Conclusions and recommendations?"

Devon sighed and looked at him. He knew how badly Chuck wanted another opinion that would offer him some modicum of hope but he wouldn't lie.

"The surgeons did everything currently approved and practiced. There were no errors, nothing was overlooked. There is no further need for surgery. What's left is all there is, Chuck. She'll never walk without pain. I'm sorry, but there are no further options I can recommend. It's extensive nerve damage that can't be cured, resolved or abated with current techniques in practice."

"Who's the best ortho specialist in the world, Devon?"

"Chuck, I showed these to the best guy at UCLA. It's his opinions I've related. There might be some neuro guy out there with new procedures but I've come up with nothing checking through the literature."

"You're telling me to give up? That there's no hope for my Sarah? That my kickass ninja spygirl is a wheelchair-bound cripple?" He was getting loud and angry.

"Yeah, I am. I'm sorry but sometimes you have to stop looking for hope and start living again. There are some things to improve her quality of life but they've probably already done them."

There were tears in Chuck's eyes. "No. This is not the end. I want the name of the best ortho specialist you know and then I want the best neuro doctor you can recommend. I have money. I'll pay them whatever they want. She will walk, run, dance, laugh again without pain. And she will come back to me. Leave a message on my cell with their names and locations. Thanks for your efforts."

He got up and left, carrying the box of files and x-rays and nursing a sudden pang of heartache. There were always options. He just needed to find them.

Ellie looked at Devon and smiled sadly. "Devon, we told him the truth. We just have to hope he finds someone in research that's on the cutting edge. Give him some researchers' names too. It's going to kill him if he can't fix her. He's obsessed and I know my brother. He will find a way or he'll go into one of his 'introspective periods' and just ignore the world."

**NSA-LA  
****Wizard's Den  
****2am**

Chuck had done preliminary searches based on Devon's notes and his final recommendations of neurosurgeons and orthopedic surgeons. This list was short and the results seemed to dovetail with what they'd told him. Still, something had to be done. Even if she never came back, he wanted her whole, healthy and with a future empty of chronic pain.

On an impulse he searched 'chronic neurological and orthopedic pain research' and here he found his Sarah's last hope.

He made notes and then started to contact them when he noted the time difference. He'd have to wait a few more hours. In the meantime he drafted his 'appeal' to them and started figuring out how to pay for it all.

Chuck felt an immediate connection with Dr. Reynolds White. He'd treated hundreds of crush injuries after 9/11 and had closed a lucrative practice to concentrate on studying new techniques to rebuild joints and alleviate chronic pain. His son had worked in an investment firm in Tower 2.

Chuck called him and asked for an appointment to discuss Sarah's case but was initially rebuffed and told he didn't see patients. He called back and offered him $10,000 to spend an hour with him reviewing Sarah's files and possible treatments. Money talked. Chuck flew to New York.

Dr. White was honest with him. An experimental hip replacement would improve her posture, gait and enable her to walk again but the pain issue wouldn't go away. He needed a good 'neuro researcher' and he gave him the names of the two best in the field. Chuck asked him if he'd do the hip replacement if the neuro researcher could resolve the nerve damage and he agreed.

Real life kept interfering in Chuck's quest for solutions to Sarah's pain.

**NSA-LA  
Wizard's Den**

Beckman was in rare form. She was actually…happy? Incredible.

"Team, we have found out that the 'Supreme Council' is meeting in Las Vegas. All the Fulcrum leaders from Europe and North America will be in one place and it's your job to identify them and 'tag' them for pickup. This is an opportunity we simply cannot let slip by. Additional teams will also be infiltrating the facility and will be in constant contact with you, providing audio and video for identification. You leave immediately. Arrangements for hotel rooms have been made and your briefing packets will be at Travel when you're ready to leave."

Casey asked a couple of clarifying questions but Chuck was quiet throughout the briefing. Beckman noticed it immediately and figured out the reason as well. She'd call him after the briefing.

"Well, Chuck, Carina, we're back in the game. Let's check our load-outs and get packed and to the airport. Private jet and all the trimmings. This should be fun."

Carina noticed how quiet Chuck had been throughout the briefing and followed him into the kitchen where he was refilling his coffee cup.

"Why so glum, partner? This should be a snap. We sit in a van and flash. No hassles, low risk. You're not uncomfortable with anything, are you?"

"Just remembering Bermuda. Same scenario. Same outcome?" The bitterness seeped through his voice and Carina wondered if maybe Bermuda hadn't been what it seemed.

"OK. Talk to me. You're pale as a ghost and you're slopping coffee you're hand is shaking so badly. What happened in Bermuda that you've not told me about? I'll be with you all the way, Chuck. No one's going to get to you except through me."

Chuck poured his coffee into the sink, wiped his hand and left.

Carina found Casey and confronted him with Chuck's comment and responses. "What the hell happened in Bermuda that I don't know about, Colonel Casey? Chuck's having a meltdown and won't talk. All he said to me was 'same scenario. Same outcome?' and then he walked away. His tone of voice though…"

"Carina, he's just a little rattled going into action for the first time since Bermuda, that's all. He'll be fine. We'll be with him all the way." He knew what Chuck was thinking. This mission order was exactly like Bermuda.

"That's crap. The Red Carpet incident was no 'rattled' Chuck. No, there's something about this and Bermuda that's got him shook up."

* * *

Chuck was driving home to pack his bag when Beckman called him.

"Bartowski, this is not a repeat of Bermuda. This is a legitimate operation against Fulcrum. You don't have to worry about being tested again. And don't tell me it's 'fine' because I saw the look on your face. If something happens…I'll release you from your agreement. That's how sure I am."

"Fine, General. I'll take your word for it." He hung up on her. He was so done with this shit. Plots within plots, games within games. He'd walk away but he needed Beckman to do her part in the "Sarah Plan".

As if things weren't complicated enough, Miranda Booth called with another demand on his time, a meeting with the design team that wanted to have his approvals on 'significant changes' to the game. It was in its final stages of testing and they'd cast voices for the characters.

The voice of the Sarah character, Gigi, had been cast - Cameron Diaz; Chuck's character, Herb, by another person he'd never heard of, Matt Perry. He really didn't care but he bridled at 'significant changes' and told her to schedule it for the following week because one of the 'loose ends had unraveled' and he needed to fix it. She wasn't dumb and caught his reference and agreed telling him to 'be careful' because she had plans for him.

He noted the time and figured it was late enough in Japan for the researcher he wanted to be up and about. He shamelessly used NSA resources to find out all he could about Matsui Kogyo currently doing research at Tokyo University. The most important thing was that Dr. Kogyo spoke impeccable English.

* * *

Chuck made his case and Dr. Kogyo declined. Chuck sighed. He didn't want to fly to Japan but he had no choice. "Dr. Kogyo, I will fly to Japan and I will pay you $10,000 for an hour of your time. Please reconsider, doctor. It is a matter of honor with me. I have to right this wrong. She is everything to me and I'll do what I must for her. Please. I can fly to Japan on Tuesday and won't need much of your time. Please reconsider.

He refused to see Chuck in Japan. Instead he proposed a meeting in Los Angeles. He was flying in on vacation to see his daughter graduate from UCLA Medical and he would see Chuck and review his files then.

Chuck filled out his planner and figured if he wasn't killed or incapacitated again in Las Vegas he could have Sarah's treatments scheduled for the first of the year. He thought about it and then he wrote down detailed instructions for Carina, made bank arrangements for fees, and sent an email to Beckman detailing progress and dates. Whatever happened in Vegas would stay there. He didn't need to be alive to have Sarah healthy and happy again. It didn't matter anymore.

**Las Vegas, NV  
****Friday**

Chuck slept during the short flight from LAX to Las Vegas. He was tired and nervous and apprehensive about meeting with Dr. Kogyo on Tuesday. Finally he felt he had to do something to ensure that someone made the meeting if he was unable to for various reasons.

On the drive into Las Vegas Chuck broached the subject of his plan to make Sarah healthy and happy. He outlined what he'd done and what needed to be done. He gave Carina an envelope with bank accounts and amounts and instructions on how to transfer the funds. He outlined Beckman's role in the plan and how important it was to him that things were carried out as planned.

"Chuck, this is ridiculous. Nothing's going to go wrong. It's a simple monitoring deal. No big deal. We'll be right here with you." Carina was shocked but impressed with what he'd already accomplished and what little remained to be done. He'd thought of everything and had a plan to deal with it.

"Then it could have been done from L.A. I don't plan on dying but I know that this life is full of risks and I want it done, Carina. I trust you to see that it gets done. Please? I've never asked either of you for a damned thing until now."

"I'll give this damned envelope back when we get back to L.A., Chuck. Nothing's going to happen."

**Luxor Hotel  
Las Vegas, NV**

Casey picked up their pre-registration packets and headed for the elevator. Carina and Chuck were following when suddenly a woman shouted, "My God, it's him, it's the Red Carpet guy!" and everything went to hell. He whispered for Carina to join Casey and then he turned and walked quickly into the casino. He needed to lose the gaggle of women who were in pursuit. So much for keeping a low profile.

He walked quickly through the casino and then turned and ducked down an aisle of slots and then walked back to the hotel lobby entrance and made his way to the elevator and his room.

Casey was standing in the hallway with his packet and a grin on his face. Carina had already gone to her room. She'd lifted the keycard from the packet. "The price of fame, Charles, the high price of fame." He laughed and then frowned when he realized there were only two room keycards left – his and Chuck's. He looked down at the packed and frowned. Damn Beckman! Chuck and Carina were registered as 'Mr. & Mrs. C. Carmichael'. He felt a shiver of jealousy and then glared at Chuck.

"You better watch yourself around Carina, Bartowski. Be careful. Be _very _careful."

* * *

Chuck swiped his keycard and walked into the room. Carina had already changed into jeans and a tight, really tight, tank top. It was obvious from the chill in the room that she had forgotten her bra…again.

"I told you I wasn't going to let anything happen to you, Chuck. Now, go change and we'll make like honeymooners and christen the bed and then go down to the casino. We have nothing to do until this evening." She was serious and Chuck was totally confused.

"Chuck, Walker doesn't want you anymore. Casey doesn't want me anymore. This is how it was meant to be, baby. You and me. And this time you won't get away."

"Carina, I'm sorry. No. Absolutely not. John Casey is the man you love, not me, certainly not me. Please, you can't count him out. All you have to do is talk to him. Marry him here, Carina, in Vegas. I'll even pay for the honeymoon."

"No. I can't marry him. You know that. This is the best way, Chuck, and you know it. We can be together as long as you want me but then we can just walk away. No ties. Just companionship and a little time between the sheets when we need it. It makes sense and you know it."

"Fine. But answer one question honestly for me. If John Casey asked you to marry him here, right now, in Las Vegas, no questions asked _ever_, would you say 'yes'?"

"Chuck, that's highly unlikely. We're through. He made his decision and I made mine. He threw me out, remember?"

Chuck startled her by unbuttoning her jeans and then pushing her back onto the bed. He slipped off her shoes and then pulled her jeans off and threw them aside. He always knew Carina was kinky but he hadn't expected her to go commando.

"Chuck, we really should show our faces in the casino." She brought one leg up to shield her naked nether region.

"No. You said christen the bed and by God, woman, if we're going to be sex toys for one another, I'm going to enjoy it." He kept pushing her, keeping his eyes fixed on hers. His eyes were cold and hers were…frightened? Anxious? Worried?

"Would you say 'yes', Carina?"

"Chuck, please, I…" She tried to sit up but he pushed her back down and stepped between her legs. She tried again and he slipped a hand up under her tank top and cupped her breast, pinching the nipple lightly between thumb and forefinger. She gasped and her nipple hardened.

"Would you say 'yes', Carina?" He kneaded her breast and she sighed…

"Yes, God damn you, Chuck Bartowski, yes, in a heartbeat. Now, if you're done teasing me, fuck me or get out." She was squeezing her eyes tightly shut. She'd just confirmed everything she'd built her wall of denial around. He'd torn it down in less than a minute.

"Get dressed, Carina. I'm going to walk off this sudden burst of lust. Just get dressed. I had to know. And no, I won't be your fuck buddy, Carina. Not yours or anyone's. You and Casey, you belong together. Make it happen here and now." He turned and left. The scent of her arousal almost pushed him out of control.

_'Are you nuts? Do you know how long it's been? I mean really…'_

"_It's been 308 days since Mira was taken, murdered, assassinated, slain, take your pick. Now, please, it's hard enough ignoring a beautiful woman who's willing and unlike Walker, able but…'_

He went down to Casey's room and banged on the door with his fist. Casey jerked the door open, weapon in hand. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Bartowski?"

"I'm giving you a gift. Go to my room, tell her to get dressed in something fancy, and then go get married. She'll do it if you ask her right now. Promise her you won't ever ask about what she's done in the past, Casey, and she'll say yes. But if you don't do it, now, this minute, I'm going to go back there and then you'll never have a second chance. Do it, John. This is your only chance."

"No. You don't understand…"

"Bermuda. You owe me for Bermuda, you son of a bitch. You should have been SS, Casey. You'd have fit right into their mentality. 30 seconds. I mean it. I'll turn her every which way but loose and I might do that just to get even with you, Casey, so 25 seconds."

Casey was rendered speechless, growless and gruntless.

"20 seconds. That's one fine piece of pu…"

Casey punched him, hard, in the face. He staggered back and then smiled a bloody smile…

"15 seconds…" Casey pushed past him and marched down the hall to their room and pounded on the door and when it opened he pushed in past her and slammed the door.

Chuck went into Casey's bathroom and repaired the damage. He really needed to learn to duck.

* * *

**Sarah Walker's Apartment  
****Rehabilitation Complex  
****Baltimore, MD**

She'd watched it on ET every time it was on. She had recorded it when Carina called and told her about it. But she still watched any ET broadcast describing current events and updates on what they were still calling the 'Red Carpet Incident'.

She still gasped when he pushed forward and grabbed the attacker's wrist and snapped it and she smiled each time he jabbed the guy in the ear with his pistol. And afterwards, she would cry because she'd sent him away with his mind full of images of her and a mystery man she intended to marry, and drove him to that bitch lawyer. Another brunette. And one who looked enough like Jill to make her reach for the weapon she was no longer allowed to carry.

"Oh, God, Chuck, what have I done to us?" She cried herself to sleep as she'd done every night since she'd spoken to him through the intercom.

She was hoarding her pain pills. Soon she'd have enough to end this misery and find oblivion.


	21. She Never Told Him That She Loved Him

TheGame19

_**It takes a couple seconds to say Hello, but forever to say Goodbye. - **_Anonymous

* * *

Surprise, surprise. The mission when off without a hitch. Well, Casey and Hansen got hitched and Chuck breathed a sigh of relief. Carina was safely locked away with Casey and no longer a temptation to him. Several of the North American Fulcrum Council members were either dead or wishing they were. Now he could concentrate of things that were important – fixing Sarah Walker and… not much else.

Miranda called him within minutes of his arrival at his apartment. He wondered again if she somehow had surveillance on his place. The paparazzi had finally gotten bored with him and moved on to harass someone more worthy of him, like Carrot Top or Paris Hotel.

"Chuck, you really have to buckle down and get serious about finalizing the design changes. They want to ship the first units before the end of the month, baby, and they really need your approvals and some input."

"Fine. Set it up. I'll call the General and tell her that she's on her own until I get my 'other' job done. Jesus, Miranda, you are a joy-sucker."

There was silence and then a sniffle and then she started to cry. "I – I'm just trying to protect your interests, Chuck. It's important to us that this game be a success." First 'baby' and now 'us'. This needed attention more than the damned game.

"Miranda, are you free tonight? Dinner at my hovel and then we'll go over every thing and set up an appointment to knock it out so we can ship on time, OK?"

"Fine. I'll be there at seven, OK?"

He called a local Indian restaurant and ordered for the both of them and told them he'd pick it up at 6:45. Then he called Ellie and told her he'd returned but had dinner plans. Lastly, he called Casey and told him his plans for the evening and that he and Carina had the evening off. Things were still tense between them. Casey was hag-ridden by guilt. Chuck was sorry he had to bring up Bermuda but the big weenie was going to let Carina slip through his fingers. And he couldn't shake the sight and feel of Carina – another man's wife – from his mind.

Next he called Dr. Kogyo and confirmed his arrival and their meeting. They'd meet at his hotel room and go over the files. He expressed hope that Dr. Kogyo would be able to do something for her pain and that money was no object. He'd fund his research himself if necessary.

Beckman had assigned discrete surveillance on Walker. She was not going to risk losing his services by letting Walker do something stupid like either disappearing or suiciding. Both were unacceptable.

Her agents reported that she had a cache of vicodin and had obviously not been taking them for pain but rather preparing to take them all at the same time and overdose. He'd replaced them with harmless look-alikes and turned the real drugs over to his supervisor. They'd searched her apartment during one of her physical therapy sessions. She reported this to Chuck via email. She also suggested he ramp up the timeline if he wanted to have a live patient.

**Westwood Marriott  
****Westwood, CA  
****10am**

Chuck met with Dr. Kogyo and was assured, after a lengthy examination of all Sarah's tests and files, that his procedure would reduce her pain levels and allow her to lead a normal life. The only caveat was that there was the risk of developing arthritis in later life, but that was a small problem decades away. He was more than willing to perform the procedure as soon as the patient was available. Chuck was ecstatic and agreed to pay his living expenses until the operation could be scheduled. He teleconference with Dr. White and the two researchers agreed to meet in Baltimore and examine Sarah as soon as possible.

**NSA-LA  
****Wizard's Den  
****12:30pm**

Chuck conferenced with General Beckman and made arrangements as planned. Beckman would contact Walker and offer the 'experimental procedure' gratis. Beckman assured Chuck it would be handled quickly.

"Agent Bartowski, after all this is done, what are your plans? Do you plan on pursuing Walker or is this just some elaborate way of purging your misplaced feelings of guilt? Chuck, what if she doesn't care anymore? You're taking a huge financial risk here. Have you considered _your_ feelings in this?"

"My feelings don't matter. General, this is not the kind of discussion I ever imagined having with you." He laughed bitterly. "I'll move on, General. It won't be easy but I'll adapt. I'm good at losing the girl. You might say it's my strength." Again, the bitter laugh.

"Do you remember what I told you when we sat here early that morning? I'd do what I could provided it didn't negatively impact the team? Do you see where I'm coming from, Chuck? Your attitude, your outlook and your mental health are all critical to our missions. I…"

"Pardon me, General, but have I ever not done what I set out to do? Have I failed any assignments since she left? No. I moved on until another opportunity presented itself. I want her whole and healthy. As for me? There's always the Odessa Option. Please expedite the operation. Advise if you need any more money. Thanks for everything, General. I never… well, thanks." He disconnected.

He'd never considered that once she was healthy that she wouldn't want to start a relationship. He'd been blind to the possibility and now, he didn't know what he'd do. It was all he'd thought of, all he'd slaved over, getting her healthy. Knowing that it was out of his hands, he could only trust in some higher power to make things right.

Unbeknownst to him, several higher powers were working in concert to achieve just that result – if you considered Casey, Carina and the little General as higher powers.

"Casey, secure."

"John, General Beckman. Congratulations to you and Carina. It's about time. Now, what is Agent Bartowski's 'Odessa Option'?"

"Oh, shit."

* * *

Sarah Walker was surprised when General Diane Beckman called her and wanted to meet with her that evening. She didn't go into detail, just that it was an important opportunity for her and the Agency.

Their meeting was brief. "Sarah, there is an experimental procedure that has been developed as a result of the horrific crush injuries of 9/11. I'd like to offer you the opportunity to participate in some clinical trials. If successful, you will be able to walk, pain-free. You might even be able to requalify for agent status in the NSA. Are you interested?"

Sarah would meet with the two researchers the following morning. Beckman ramped things up and shortened all the time periods. She wanted Walker on her feet and in position with weeks not months. She emailed Bartowski. There would be no Odessa Options in the future. Not if she could help it.

* * *

"Sarah Walker."

"Casey, Sarah. How are you?"

"Well, unless you've had a sex change operation, shouldn't you say 'Carina' or 'Hansen'?" She laughed.

"I got married. You boyfriend pushed us into it, thank God. We were dancing around, fighting, he threw me out on my ass, and then I pushed him a little too hard and I discovered that Chuck Bartowski is an evil son of a bitch. Thank God."

"OK, you got my attention. What did the Boy Wonder do that made you so damned angry?"

"He made me look at myself through his eyes. I was whoring on to him, offering him what I thought he needed and what I definitely needed with no strings and he basically called my bluff. If I didn't love him so much I could easily hate him."

"Confused here. Too many 'he's. Put proper names in place, please."

"I came on to Chuck and he scared the shit out of me. I thought he was going to rape me, honestly, but all he wanted me to do was admit I loved John Casey and would say 'yes' if he asked me again to marry him. It took him a little less than a minute to get me to admit it. Sarah, he was freaky scary."

"Chuck would never 'rape' anyone, Carina. That's just not him."

"I wasn't sure. I was close to peeing my pants but he'd already got them off me. Then when I finally admitted it, he went down to Casey's room and told him he had 30 seconds to ask me to marry him or he was going to screw my brains out or words to that effect. We got married 2 hours later. Plus we tore Fulcrum's leadership to shreds."

She was jealous, incredibly jealous. She'd been with Chuck and now she was married to Casey. "Well, congratulations. I hope you know what you're doing. Boy Wonder never…"

"Stop. Don't you dare demean him. He's not a boy. He _is_ a wonder though."

"Fine. He's an agent now so I suppose that's working out all right for him. I see he's got a new girlfriend. His lawyer?"

"I called to tell you I got married, not to have you rag on Chuck. He's my partner until…well, until things change. Right now it looks like he's committed to another five years with the intersect."

"Wait, I thought he was retiring for medical reasons after the Bermuda episode. Why would he do that?"

"When he reloaded the intersect he made a deal with Beckman. He got what he wanted and she got what she needed. Well, she got what she needed. I think Chuck… never mind. Listen, I called you to ask you a question. Doesn't matter how you answer it as long as it's the truth. I'm never going to call you again, count on it."

"So ask your question, Hansen. I mean Casey. Wow, that's a mind-blower."

"Do you love Chuck Bartowski?"

"I don't want to talk about it. It's over and done with. I told you I have someone else in my life now. Let it go. That was years ago and I've changed."

"You sure have. Goodbye, Walker. Enjoy your new pain-free existence."

"Carina, wait…, Carina?" She was talking to dead air. What did she mean, 'pain-free existence? How could she know anything about what Beckman had offered?

She popped another Vicodin but they didn't seem to be working any longer.

* * *

Chuck picked up dinner and then drove to his apartment. He'd retained the old cleaning lady from his Venice condo so he knew the place was spotless. He'd pop dinner into the warmer, change and then prepare for Booth's lawyerly assaults.

Chuck thought about how much he was like the painter guy.

_Once there was a man who dreamed of incredibly complex landscapes, beautiful portraits, and fantastic colors but when he awoke all he could draw was crudely disproportionate stick figures._

_He needed to put down on canvas that his dreams created. It became an obsession with him. He enrolled in art school where he learned to mix paints, brush techniques, proportions and perspectives. Finally, he graduated. _

_But all he dreamed about now were stick figures - perfectly proportioned stick figures._

As he changed clothes he thought back over his conversation with Beckman. And then he rehashed his conversation in the rain with Sarah in Baltimore.

It hit him like a freight train and left him stunned for a moment.

Fine, she was lying about the boyfriend but what if she wasn't lying about her feelings for him?

_She'd never actually told him she loved him_.


	22. Assumptions and Miscommunications

TheGame20

"_**I know that you believe you understand what you think I said, but I'm not sure you realize that what you heard is not what I meant."**_ – Anonymous

* * *

Miranda Booth had always been taught that one must be punctual to show self-discipline and respect. She was sitting in her BMW in the parking lot of Chuck's apartment complex looking at her watch. She watched the minute hand move from 6:58 to 6:59 and got out and locked her car and walked up to his apartment. At precisely 7pm she rang the bell and heard "Miranda, it's open" and walked in.

It always amazed her how neat, orderly and tidy he was. His apartment was nicely furnished but Spartan. The only other time she'd been in it was to wait patiently in the foyer while he pulled some 'flash drives' from his desk for a meeting. She heard "Make yourself comfortable, I'll just be a second," and so she took that as tacit consent for her to walk around his living room and examine it.

The bookcase was full of various technical journals, some textbooks, a few novels (obviously gifts and obviously unread) and an amazing number of engineering and software texts that appeared well used.

There were four photographs of Chuck with other women. The first was of a beautiful blonde girl with her arms around him in someone's kitchen. It was a candid shot and the woman's love radiated toward a much younger Chuck. The second and third were of a tall honey-blonde with dark eyes and Chuck at a wedding and the other of them leaning against a black sports car in front of a large airplane. They were wearing parachutes! Again the love was easily seen. The last was of Chuck and another young man, both in formal clothes, and a smiling, dark-haired young woman in a beautiful wedding dress.

"That's my sister, Ellie and her husband, Devon. You'll meet them soon. They're both doctors. That was taken at their wedding last year. They live in Westwood. You'll love Ellie, everyone does. She's a little intense, though."

She wanted to know about the other two. Especially the blonde. She picked up the picture of them wearing parachutes. "You a skydiver, Chuck?"

"Oh, God no! That was Mira and I at Dover AFB getting ready for our last jump series at the Academy. The other is at Ellie's wedding. She was a bride's maid."

"And the blonde? You look so young and…"

"Stupid? Unaware? Naive? " There was a bitterness in his tone that caused her to look at him with concern.

"Bad breakup?" She was going to say 'you look so young and in love' but he'd interrupted.

"No. There was never anything to break. She was my CIA handler when I first got involved in the intelligence business. She's inactive now. Injured in Romania a while back."

She knew from the look on the woman's face that what Chuck said was a lie. The love would be apparent to anyone who had eyes. The woman positively adored Chuck. It was not a posed photograph; there was no put-on emotion. It was as genuine as his smile.

No. He wasn't telling her a lie, he was telling himself a lie. And he believed it given his tone.

"So, Chuck, dinner…then contracts." She was ravenous and her stomach growled and they both laughed.

When she left at 10pm she'd surprised herself by kissing him and she was again surprised when he'd deepened the kiss and then reluctantly broke the embrace and walked her to her car.

"Remember the meeting tomorrow morning. I'll meet you there. 10am sharp. And then I want to cook you dinner, Chuck. And show you my shelf of good and bad memories. So how about it, Secret Agent Man, dinner at the Booth residence tomorrow night?"

The next day would be life-saving for Sarah. For Chuck, the beginning of the end.

**Cerberus Games  
****Conference Room  
****Los Angeles, CA  
****Tuesday 10am**

Miranda sat in a daze as Chuck fought the programmers tooth and nail to protect the integrity of his game – and won. He was standing in front of twenty programmers who were strung out on large quantities of Mountain Dew and Red Bull fending off assaults and insults with alarming ease.

"Gentlemen, and I use the term loosely, you're all full of crap. I wrote it, you made changes that altered the course and use of the game. You undermined one of the Game's strongest marketing hooks for the female demographic because you never look at things from the users' perspectives. Eliminate those changes, restore the original theme programming and let me know when you're done."

The team leader had been unusually obnoxious and felt it necessary to recover some of his lost 'face'. He was as tall as Chuck but not nearly as well built.

"So, Mr. Bartowski, you wrote this entire endeavor in less than six months? All by yourself? You didn't lift portions from, say, someone else's work?"

The room got quiet. Several cans of Red Bull were opened as the programmers waited to see who would draw first blood. No one had ever bested the 'Prick' as he was called. If he couldn't control you, he fired you. Now he was trying to fire the client?

Miranda placed her hand on Chuck's forearm. She could feel the rage building in him and she knew she had to defuse the situation before there was blood all over the room.

"Mr. ah, Pratt, those are serious charges, slanderous, do you wish to continue this line of conversation? Especially since it seems it's taken 20 of you a month to do a small portion of what my client did in 6 months?"

She turned to Chuck and smiled.

"Perhaps, Chuck, you were right and I was wrong. EA would have provided the better design platform, certainly the more professional. It's not too late to cancel, refund, and then take the larger offer, even with less intellectual control. I know you said you wanted to let a 'little shop' have the game but still and all, charging you with theft of intellectual property, well, that's beyond the pale."

Just then Chuck's cell rang. It was Casey. "I need to take this. Ms. Booth, handle this while I take this call."

He walked to the far end of the conference room and answered.

"Bartowski, secure but in a public place."

"Chuck, it's Casey. Beckman said to tell you the operation is scheduled for this afternoon. Both doctors give it a 60% probability of complete recovery, with an almost certainty of manageable pain levels between the implant and light doses of prescription meds. Walker has agreed and is in prep now. You were right. She jumped at the chance and the two egg heads said she's an ideal candidate."

"Good. Thanks. One less thing to worry about." He hung up. The voices were getting loud.

He turned and was about to address Pratt when he heard him shout, 'Look, bitch, you don't talk to me like that. No one could write code that quickly and certainly not that well. There are almost no errors, no areas to truncate, it's as if 100 programmers spent a year debugging it. It's got to have been stolen and modified…urk!"

In four long strides he reached Pratt and spun his chair around and jerked him out of it. The programmers sensed blood and since it was The Prick's blood, they were silently cheering Chuck on.

"Keep a civil tongue in your head, lad, before I rip it out. I went to Stanford, spent 5 years working on computers and programs; I did it for the NSA. I know what I can do. And there's only one way to settle this: a Death Match!"

There was stunned silence and then murmurs of approval. A few started chanting 'Death Match" under their breath and tapping their soda cans on the tabletop.

"Well, um, I didn't know your, um, extensive background. Maybe I spoke out of turn, um, well, we don't have time for this. We have a deadline to meet. Fine. We'll do it your way." There was no way he could beat Chuck and he knew it.

The senior partner for the company had walked in after hearing Pratt's outburst echo throughout the small office. He took one look at Pratt dangling from Chuck's fist and knew something had to be done or they'd lose their goldmine.

"Pratt, you're fired. Leave. Ms. Jorgenson, you're project coordinator. Mr. Bartowski, Ms. Booth, my apologies. I'm sure whatever amends need to be made can be handled expeditiously." He made a mental note to have security make sure they patted him down. No data would leave the building.

"Chuck, please put him down. He's going to wet himself if you don't." The entire room burst into laughter and Chuck dropped Pratt and turned to Ms. Jorgenson.

"Rita, you know what I want done and how I want it. Make it so. Guys, thanks for your efforts. I won't pull the game. Just make the deadline and call me with any changes or concerns. I'm an insomniac so I'd probably appreciate the interruption." They laughed. He was one of them.

Booth stopped Chuck in the parking lot. Now it was her turn to quiver with rage. She gave into it and started yelling at Chuck. "A Death Match? With that wimp? You'd rip him apart. You're a trained agent."

Chuck started to laugh and Miranda stamped her foot and shouted, "Are you nuts, Bartowski? You can't kill someone over a damned computer game program!" She'd been both thrilled and appalled at what she'd seen. It was as if the 'Red Carpet' Chuck had been unleashed in that small room.

Still laughing, he tried to explain but couldn't. This just made her all the madder. Every time she stomped her foot he laughed louder and harder.

"Miranda, please, stop with the foot. A Death Match is a show down between programmers. They are each assigned an identical task and the first one to complete it wins. There's generally no bloodshed. Now please, stop stomping your little foot and let's get some lunch."

"Oh, shit, Chuck, I thought you were really going to…" and then she started laughing.

**NSA Medical Facility  
****Baltimore, MD**

The surgery took the two researchers and 4 support surgeons a little over six hours to replace the hip with the modified "White Appliance" and two hours for Dr. Kogyo and a single support technician (who ran the computer probes and ran tests) to implant his feedback device in her lower back. It was the size of a postage stamp and used the body's own electrical impulses for its power source. The delicate and extensive 'rewiring' of the nerve and the grafting along the nerve path and grueling testing took the most time.

In two days or less, Sarah Walker would take her first pain-free step in almost a year.

* * *

**NSA-LA  
****Wizard's Den  
****11pm Tuesday**

"Damn you, Chuck. Answer the damned phone!" She was worried. It had been thirty minutes since the explosion had ripped apart Chuck's apartment and they hadn't been able to reach him. Carina wasn't aware of his evening schedule and assumed he'd been in the apartment when the bomb destroyed it. She wouldn't cry now. Not until she was certain. Then she would cry for him.

**Bombing Investigation Team**

Casey was at the scene and was impatiently waiting for the fire department to complete its safety check before he accompanied investigators into the rubble. Four apartments had been affected by the blast but Chuck's had clearly been the target. Cadaver dogs were already on the scene.

He hated calling Beckman but if the intersect had been eliminated, he had no choice.

"Beckman, secure. What is it, Colonel Casey? It's 3am."

"Bartowski's apartment was bombed. He may have been in it. He's not answering his cell phone and his car is here. You needed to be told, General, it's a standing order."

"Yes, of course. Keep me posted. When you find the body call me, John. No matter what the time." After all he'd done, he'd never get to see how well it worked.

**6am Wednesday**

By sunrise, searchers had found seven bodies among the charred debris, three women and four men. All the occupants of the apartments had been accounted for. Chuck Bartowski was dead, killed by persons unknown in a bomb blast.

Fire marshals had found parts of the bomb including casement and timing mechanism. Casey immediately invoked 'national security' and had an NSA forensics team on the spot the instant the bomb and bodies had been found.

He was walking through the rubble and found a pile of smoldering books, engineering texts and he stopped and wondered if Bartowski still needed to refer to them for anything. Well, not now, not ever again. He saw a glimpse of gold and dug down and found four photographs in their frames, glass intact. He put them in his car for…he didn't know what. He just didn't want them to end up in a dumpster someplace.

**7am Wednesday**

Casey called Beckman and went over what was known to this point. It had definitely been a bomb, fairly sophisticated but with a faulty timer. Seven bodies had been recovered and that accounted for the occupants of all the destroyed apartments.

Beckman had been very subdued in her comments. "Very well, Colonel. Stay with the investigators and see what clues we can find so we can track down these people and bring hurt down on them."

"Ah, general, I need to go with Agent Hansen, I mean, Casey, to inform his family of the events. I'll return when that's done, General."

**8am Wednesday  
****Casa Woodcomb  
****Westwood, CA**

Ellie and Devon were getting ready for work. Ellie had rounds and Devon had appointments at their practice. Neither expected visitors.

Ellie opened the door and took in John's dirty and streaked face and Carina's puffy eyes and she sort of folded in on herself and gave a wail that brought her husband running in fear.

"Devon, Chuck's dead. Killed in a bomb blast. We don't know who did it. It was quick, though. He never would have felt a thing. He was probably asleep. I'm sorry. Carina will stay here with you but I have to go back and supervise the investigation." He turned and left, shoulders slumped, and suddenly he felt every one of his 40 years.

At the same time Ellie and Devon were told about Chuck's death, Sarah Walker was clear-headed enough to realize something – there was no pain. She was pain-free for the first time in nearly a year. It felt – wonderful. Her first thought, and she pushed it down, was to call Chuck. She wouldn't have to deny her feelings now. She wouldn't have to lie. She wouldn't be less than he deserved. She could tell him, beg him to forgive her lies, ask for his understanding and then hope he still cared.

**Miranda Booth's Home  
****Hollywood Hills, L.A.  
****8am Wednesday**

Chuck woke up to the sun streaming through the window framing Miranda's naked back covered in her thick brunette hair. For just a second, maybe less, he wondered if his is how his life might have been if Bryce hadn't framed him, if Jill hadn't left him and if he'd graduated from Stanford instead of being kicked out and ending up at the Buy More.

**6:30pm Tuesday Evening**

_It had taken Chuck and Miranda an hour to drive from NSA-LA to her 'little house in the hills'. It was a beautiful drive and he didn't mind the time at all. He just wondered how Miranda could stand the commute._

_Her 'little house' was poised on the edge of a canyon, and supported by steel beams driven to the point of refusal. The pool had a beautiful view and he imagined one could see the ocean from such a vantage point on a clear day. He felt his inferiority complex kick into overdrive when he imagined her impression of his apartment. His entire place could fit comfortably into a small corner of the first floor._

_She leaned over and kissed him quickly and then got out. He sensed it would have been more but she wasn't certain of his response._

'_So, little house in the hills? You do have issues with size, Booth. Do you ever get lost in this place? I mean, one person for all this?"_

"_Um, Chuck, I live in the pool house. This is my folks' house. They're in Darfur with Doctors Without Borders. There's no way I could afford the electric bill on this place." She wasn't normally so open with 'strangers' but Chuck was different._

"_That's a relief. You and your ex lived here? Must have been…interesting."_

"_Nope, of course not. We had a place in the city. The commute here is a killer but it's home for a while. The divorce was not the most pleasant experience of my life. So, c'mon. The pool and hot tub are very relaxing after a 'Death Match' day."_

"_Ah, you picked me up at the Center. I don't have, I mean, you didn't mention…" He blushed for no reason and she laughed. "One of my ex-husband's suits will fit although it may be a little tight. We'll see."_

_They ate beside the pool in the warm evening. Living in the 'hills' had its advantages. The view of the city was fantastic. She poured more wine and cleared the table and came out wearing a very interesting bikini and a robe. _

"_Hot tub, Chuck. Go change. Best part of the evening is soaking and relaxing and enjoying the view. I laid out a couple of suits for you to try on."_

_Ten minutes later he was sitting opposite Miranda in bubbling and swirling hot water, drinking a merlot and unwinding. Muscles he hadn't known were tense eased and he smiled at his hostess. "Thanks. This is wonderful. You're a great cook." He had his arms up on the edge of the tub when Miranda swam across and straddled his lap and kissed him hungrily. He brought his arms down around her and held her close, deepening the kiss. _

_One door closes, another opens._

_His cell phone rang but he'd left it in the bedroom and he wouldn't have answered it anyway._

He ran a fingertip down her spine and she shivered and rolled over and attacked him for the fourth time besides the one time in the hot tub. He'd needed intimacy with another human being. He'd been alone since Mira had died and he'd been miserable since his epiphany regarding Sarah.

_She'd never actually told him she loved him_.


	23. Realizations All Around

TheGame21

**T/N: Read the quotation carefully. **

"_**He was a great patriot, a humanitarian, a loyal friend – provided, of course, that he really is dead."**_ – Voltaire 1735

* * *

**Miranda Booth's Home  
****Hollywood Hills, L.A.  
****9am Wednesday**

"Miranda, did you turn off my cell? I can never be out of touch, ever. Please, sweetie, don't ever do that again." Chuck was pissed but she really didn't understand his life so he couldn't be as caustic as he'd be if Carina or…well, Carina had done it.

"Chuck, let's take the day off. The game is on schedule, I have nothing on my calendar that can't be postponed, and I think a day of just lazing around would do us both a world of good."

Actually, she wanted to keep him in bed, chained to the headboard where she'd feed him raw meat for food and give herself to him for dessert.

"I can't. I've got some things I have to do every day, without fail. So, throw on some clothes and take me to NSA, babe. I keep a couple of days' clothes there out of necessity. So quit trying to seduce me – again – and let's head out. I'll call you when I'm sure of my schedule. I have a lot to do." _I need to check on Walker's surgery, make sure the doctors are happy, and then…I guess just wait for something to happen._

He checked his phone and saw 5 calls from Carina but she hadn't left a voicemail so he just erased them and got dressed. While he was drinking instant coffee he called her back. It went straight to voice mail and that meant she'd turned her phone off. Agents didn't normally do that so he figured making contact wasn't a high priority.

**NAS-LA  
****10:45am**

Chuck kissed her goodbye, promised to call later and then used the 'back door' to the Den and went in and took a quick shower and dressed for the day. He needed a nap but just smiled and shrugged it off. She'd been very enthusiastic and as he suspected, they'd both been in need of human contact and comfort.

He wasn't fooling himself. This thing with Miranda was a no-go. He just wasn't ready for anything like a relationship. He had the job and the game and for now, that was enough. Well, he'd hoped to share his life with a certain blonde but maybe it just wasn't meant to be. Sighing, he pushed all those 'girly feelings' down under a rock in his mind and moved on.

'_uh, Chuck?'_

"_Not now, Shadow. I don't need lectures, pity, any of it. I just need resolution so I know what to do next. Please, if you want to stay out of the box, fine. But stay in background. I wish I could go into the box and just let it all happen without me.'_

**NSA Medical Facility  
****Baltimore, MD**

The doctors were very pleased with Ms. Walker's progress. She'd wanted to get out of bed and try standing or sitting but neither would allow it. Tomorrow would be soon enough to try sitting. Walking was still a few days or a week away. First they needed to monitor her pain levels and make adjustments to the implant. For now they were satisfied with the absence of pain and secondary issues from the surgery.

General Beckman stopped in to see how she was doing. Sarah got the impression that Beckman had slept very little the previous night while she'd slept better than she had in almost a year.

"Ms. Walker…Sarah…how are you feeling?" She wanted to judge her mental state before considering breaking the news to her of Agent Bartowski's death in a bombing attack.

"There's no pain, General, and if that's all I'll ever have, it's enough. I don't know where you found them but those doctors…they're wonderful."

She decided to get it over with.

"I didn't find them. I didn't arrange any of this. There never was a medical trial program. It was all a ruse, a ploy, to enable and to convince you to have the surgery. I'm sorry for deceiving you."

"But why? I mean, why employ such a deception instead of just saying there was a new procedure? I don't understand at all. If you didn't find them, if you didn't arrange all this, who did?"

"Sarah, there was no new procedure. These two doctors had never met before Monday. Each had a solution to part of your problem but neither knew the other. Someone found them, brought them together and then paid them to perform the surgery and implantation."

"Who? Who did this for me? I want to thank him for giving me back my life."

"I'm sorry I can't tell you who. And it wouldn't matter if I did tell you because you couldn't thank him. He… he passed away last night."

"General, who did this wonderful thing for me. Please, I have to know."

Beckman almost whispered, "I can't tell you. I promised him I wouldn't tell you. Unlike so many others, myself included, who have betrayed him, I won't, not this time." She rose from her chair and abruptly left. She left behind a dumbfounded Sarah Walker.

Walker wanted to share her joy. It was human nature. What was it Chuck always said, 'a joy shared is doubled?' She couldn't call him. Not yet. She had to be sure, she had to be able to walk back to him, nothing less.

She called Carina but her phone went right to voicemail. That was unusual for a serving agent. Maybe she was on her honeymoon or a mission. She called Casey but his phone was busy. She left a voicemail asking him to have Carina call her about her surgery.

Bored, she tried to go back to sleep. Ten minutes later she gasped, all thoughts of sleep gone from her mind. Connected dots. That's what she meant. _'found them…brought them together…betrayal…myself included…' Oh, God, please, not Chuck, not now. Casey's phone – busy. Carina's phone – off. I need to call him. I need to know.'_

His phone went to voicemail. It was on the charger in the kitchen and he was busy running the dailies and connecting dots. She didn't leave a message that she knew would never be answered.

**Casa Woodcomb  
****Westwood, CA**

Carina was trying to console Ellie without much luck. She was not just Chuck's partner. She and Ellie had become fast friends. She'd naturally gravitated into the vacuum left by Miranda Dawson's death. She was two years older but a hundred years wiser than Ellie and yet all that experience and knowledge could not bring any consolation to her friend.

Devon was no help. He'd seen more death than most. He dealt with 'last resorts' for a living. He was a cardiac surgeon. He didn't get to see the healthy hearts just the diseased and damaged ones. He was totally unprepared to fix a broken one.

Casey had gone back to apartment complex to see if he could be of any assistance. He couldn't handle just sitting around watching Ellie cry. What he really wanted was to find out who did this, catch them, roll them in honey and let the ants have them. Chuck Bartowski was a royal pain in the ass but he'd been their pain in the ass and he'd become a partner to the both of them. He and Carina would take some time off and grieve in their own way before their next assignment. For now, he had a murderer to catch.

**Law Offices of Miranda Booth & Associates  
****Beverly Hills, CA**

Miranda's secretary didn't bother to knock. She almost ran into her boss' office interrupting a phone call and threw the morning's _Los Angeles Times_ open to a page. Miranda was about to chew her butt off when she saw what her secretary was pointing to…a photograph of a destroyed apartment complex and the names of the dead. The first name was Chuck's. She speed read through the article gasping when she reached 'suspected bomb' and 'no survivors'.

"This is a mistake. He was with me last night. I dropped him off on my way into work this morning. It's a mistake."

She knew what he did was dangerous but if they'd been at his apartment instead of the pool house, her name would have been listed among the dead. She ran to her bathroom and threw up. Chuck's world was simply too violent for her. She'd have to break it off. She was too frightened of his life to allow him into hers.

No matter how attracted she was to him, no matter how he made her feel, she was terrified of becoming 'collateral damage' like his fiancé.

**NSA-LA  
****Wizard's Den**

Chuck took his cell off the charger and turned it back on. No calls. Good. He was afraid he'd find several from Miranda and he just wasn't in the mood to deal with her until he knew what the status was on Sarah. He was tempted to give the docs a call but worried he'd interrupt them doing something important so he just sat back and watched the big screen flash it's ticker tape of information related to the security of the US or to any intelligence agency.

_An attack on a pipeline in Iraq…Truck loaded with munitions hijacked outside Ft Campbell, KY…NSA agent killed in bomb explosion in L.A…Keyhole 27 tasked to CENTCOM…_

He looked at the ticker but he didn't see it. His mind was in Baltimore wondering how she was doing. He wanted desperately to hear that the operation was a success and that the patient was doing fine. A trite phrase but one he'd give anything to hear. He nodded off, satisfied that he'd done everything in his power and now it was up to the higher power to do his thing.

* * *

**4am**

Chuck woke with a start. He'd been dreaming but he couldn't remember it. It must have been a wild one because he was trembling. Good. He didn't need another nightmare to add to his repertoire. It was after 4am and it was no wonder his back felt like he'd slept in a chair – he had. It was dark with only the security lights on the perimeter lit. The cleaning guy was a green freak and probably turned out the lights.

His second thought was that it was 8am in Baltimore and the General had been in her office for 2 hours and probably was ready for a break. He dialed up a videoconference channel and went into the kitchen for a cup of coffee. When he walked back, Beckman was staring at the empty L.A office wondering what the hell was going on.

Chuck stepped up to screen and took a sip of his coffee. Diane Beckman spilled hers. He noticed the look on her face and turned to see if some nightmare creature had come up behind him. He didn't think he had that affect on the general but apparently he did.

"Good morning, General. I'll reconnect after you've had a chance to have that cleaned up." He disconnected. Beckman would have a rep from the cleaning crew clean up her mess and then he'd reconnect. He walked back into the kitchen to see if there was anything edible but not alive in the refrigerator. He'd dozed off and slept right through with no dinner.

Beckman was stunned. In the dim light of the empty Wizard's Den she could see a spectral figure moving into the camera's range and then say something and disconnect. She looked down at the sudden mess and called her AA to have someone clean it up and someone else to check her damned connection with L.A. She was picking up another transmission. She had to be.

The conference tech brought down all the internals in L.A. remotely, rebooted the system and then reconnected a conference. The room was empty and the lights were set on 'unoccupied/night' per protocols. Nothing was wrong. The general told him to do it again. Just before the transmission ended, Chuck noticed the screen and walked into the camera's coverage area and waved at the general and started to speak but the transmission ended.

'_Well, she must be busy. I'll just duck out for breakfast and then see what I can find out by hacking into the hospital database.'_

'_You mean I'll be hacking into the database while you go into background, don't you? Honestly, Chuck, it wouldn't kill you to give me a little recognition from time to time. I'm not a ghost, y'know.'_

'_Sorry. Mind's elsewhere. I appreciate what you do, shadow, you know that. You should since you're me.'_

Chuck left by the 'alternate exit' and walked a block to a diner and got breakfast. On the way back he passed a street vendor selling roses and he bought one on a whim. He owed Carina an apology for Vegas even if it was necessary to move the mountain to Mohammed. A rose and a note should be enough.

**NSA-LA  
****Wizard's Den**

Chuck wrote a note and left the yellow rose on it. That was as much apology as he was capable of. No word from Beckman and nothing in the database about Walker. For an intel gathering organization, there was precious little intel available on Walker. He walked into the detention area and flopped on a bunk. A nap. He'd been here almost 24 hours and had yet to see his partners.

* * *

**7am**

Carina and Casey walked into the Den and hit the lights. Carina walked to her workstation and shrieked. "John, come here. I don't believe it."

"A rose? What's the note say?"

_Carina_

_Sorry about Vegas_

_But it worked, didn't it?_

_C._

"Holy crap! The rose is fresh. See the sap on the note? What's going on here, Casey? He's dead. The body's in the morgue. This is impossible."

"I think someone's playing with your head, C.C."

"No one knows about Vegas but you, me and Chuck. Well, I told Walker but I don't think she did it. Wonder if she knows about…him yet?"

"I saved some pictures from the apartment. They weren't even damaged. The glass was intact in the frame. I think we should send the one with her and Chuck to her. If she doesn't want it she can always pitch it."

"Casey, do you believe in ghosts?"

"Carina, you're freaking out over nothing. It was probably there before he…well, before and you just missed seeing it. It's just a fluke that it isn't dying yet."

The chime indicated an incoming videoconference. Carina took her seat, toying with the yellow rose. Casey stood behind her and then the General's image appeared.

"Are you having video difficulties, Colonel Casey? Anything unusual occurring there? I had an incoming conference request at 4:15am your time and there was no one there."

"No ma'am, nothing unusual. We can see and hear you just fine. No one's been here for the past 30 hours or more, ma'am, just the cleaners and they're in and out before 9pm."

Carina spoke up. "General, that's not exactly true." Casey growled at her.

"What do you mean, Agent Casey?"

"When I came in at 7am there was a yellow rose and a note on my workstation. The note said 'Carina, sorry about Vegas but it worked, didn't it' and it's signed 'C'. The rose is fresh. There's sap on the note."

"I have something for you both to see…it's disturbing."

She queued the first transmission and for 6 seconds they saw the Den set on night protocols and for less then 2 second they saw Chuck Bartowski with a cup of coffee. The second transmission was time stamped twelve minutes later. For 4 seconds the image remained unchanged and then, ½ second before the tech had terminated the transmission after testing, the image of Chuck Bartowski appeared suddenly and waved.

"Shit. This place is haunted…"


	24. Homeless Wanderings and Wonderings

TheGame22TheGame22

_**But I always thought that I'd see you, baby, one more time again  
**_ 'Fire and Rain" – James Taylor

* * *

**Cerberus Games  
L****os Angeles, CA  
****Wednesday 10am**

Rita Jorgenson burst into her boss' office with a copy of the LA Times under her arm. "Bartowski's dead! We've got to get the game on the market now to take advantage of the free advertising."

She outlined the plan she'd quickly developed. She knew people at ET and TMZ from her college days and she knew they'd whip up a media frenzy about the 'Red Carpet Incident' and the now-dead agent. The video game would benefit. They would benefit. It was a win-win scenario.

She walked out with a mission and a new title – VP Games Marketing. It was a win-win for some people.

**NSA-LA  
****Wizard's Den**

Chuck woke up, stretched and then walked out of the detention area. The Caseys had their backs to him listening to General Beckman's instructions. He walked over behind them wishing he'd put his tie back on and at least shaved.

"…and so…and…_Bartowski_?" She turned pale and the two agents whirled around, one with his hand on his weapon, the other with a rose pointed at him. Carina's face went pale but the smile was huge.

"Chuck!" 120 pounds of excited Carina Casey jumped on him and he wasn't prepared. He stumbled backwards onto the conference table with Carina on top of him yelling 'you're alive. Oh, Chuck!' and covering his face with tears and kisses.

John Casey had been a devout Catholic, an altar boy and a true believer. In one sense he'd never lost his faith but in the reality of his world it had gone the way of the Tooth Fairy. It came smashing back. He crossed himself for the first time in 20 years and was all smiles. Miracles do happen.

Beckman could hear her agent's confused voice saying '…of course I'm alive. What the hell is going on here? I spent the entire day here working and then I crashed in the detention cell. Carina you're a married woman, get _off _me!"

Beckman composed herself, wiping the smile that threatened to break out from her face. "Agent Bartowski, explain the meaning of this. You are dead. Your body has been found in the ruins of your apartment that was leveled by a bomb blast Tuesday night. There were seven bodies found matching seven occupants. Explain yourself!"

He was wiping Carina's lipstick and tears from his face and smearing it. Carina got a wet-wipe from her purse and tried to clean him up while he tried to explain it to the General.

"I left here Tuesday evening, had dinner at my attorney's, drank too much and spent the night in the pool house. She brought me into work yesterday and I did the dailies and some maintenance I'd been putting off and then cleaned some weapons, killed some paper targets and then perused some intel off the ticker. I tried making contact with you this morning around 8am your time but we got cut off. I saw a conference-in-progress but I couldn't get there before you cut it off again. I figured you guys were having tech problems so I went out to breakfast and ran an errand and…well, here I am. I'm definitely not dead!"

"The whose body was recovered from the wreckage of the apartment complex?"

"You're certain they were after me? I mean couldn't have been accidental like a gas line or something? How sure…"

Casey interrupted him. "Chuck, we found part of the timer and the bomb casing. You were definitely the target. I'm sorry, but you were the intended victim. The others were just…collateral damage."

"Collateral damage. How easily that phrase excuses so many things. I hate this crap. How many more people am I going to kill before they finally get me? General, I want the bunker. I…" He sat down heavily in the chair. Bartowski had the guilt thing down to a science. He always went for his throat.

"Nonsense! You are an NSA agent not some asset we can do without. Colonel Casey, I want the perpetrators found and handled. I'll contact the FBI and have them send a team of experts to assist your team. For now, Chuck, go see your sister and brother-in-law and stop them from burying you. Take Agent Han – I mean Casey, with you for moral support. Carina, don't leave his side for any reason. Report back to me at 2pm."

"Ellie? You told Ellie I was dead? My God! Let's go. Wait, I'll call Devon. No, you call Devon, Carina. She'll freak out more if she hears me on the phone."

"Agent Bartowski, I thought you'd like to know. Ms. Walker's procedure went perfectly. The doctors you brought together performed brilliantly. There is every indication that the implant is working and she is pain-free for the first time since her injury. You did good, Chuck. Take pride in that. You did a very good thing." She signed off.

* * *

"Let's go, Carina. Why didn't you guys answer your cells yesterday? I called but Casey's was busy and Carina's was off."

"Um, we were taking care of Ellie and Devon, Chuck. I didn't want any interruptions and Casey was at the bombing scene looking for…um, clues."

Chuck took a pool car from the NSA lot and drove to Westwood fairly slowly so Carina would have time to contact Devon and prepare Ellie for his miraculous resurrection. Devon was first shocked then ecstatic. Ellie was asleep and he'd wake her with the news right before they got there.

* * *

**Casa Woodcomb  
****Westwood, CA**

Carina called Devon when they were two minutes away and he went in and woke his wife, whispering that it was all a bad dream and that her baby brother wasn't dead, that it had all been a horrible mistake.

She woke up and smiled and he smiled back and said "It wasn't a dream, babe, he'll be here in a minute. Get up, wash your face and get dressed. It was all a mistake. Someone else died. Someone else will be sad but not us. C'mon, Ellie, Chuck's here now."

His gentleness was almost his undoing. She came at him screaming "liar, he's dead" but he just picked her up and carried her into the living room where Chuck and Carina were waiting. He handed her to Chuck like a baby and smiled and said "Here, bro, take care of her for me."

Even after it had been explained to her twice she still wouldn't let go of the death grip her arms had around him and kept looking at him and smiling. "I don't understand, baby brother, and I don't care. You're here and you're alive and that's enough. I think I'm going to take a nap. You look like you could use one, too. Go home, Chuck. Go home. I'm fine, now, and Devon needs some TLC after I hit him. Go home."

Chuck and Carina went back to the car.

* * *

"Where to now, Chuck?"

"Well, everything I own is under a pile of rubble. I have clothes back at the Den. So I guess that's home for now. I'll check into a hotel until Ms. Sanchez finds me another apartment. I don't know, Carina. I just don't know."

She looked over at him and had a sudden thought. "Chuck, home is where the heart is. Go home, Chuck. Go where your heart is."

"Yean. Odessa. I'll go to Odessa."

"No, Chuck, you'll go to Baltimore. That's where your heart is, that's where she is. Go home, Chuck."

He sighed. "I can't. I can't keep beating my head against her damned walls of…whatever. Y'know, I had an epiphany of sorts the other night. She never actually told me she loved me. This delusion I have is all a colossal joke on me of my own doing. I've been trying to convince a woman to admit to something she doesn't feel. No. This is home. This is where I belong."

Carina frowned, a plan forming in her mind that would make Chuck blush.

"Let's go back to the Den. I'll grab my stuff and find a hotel. Maybe Beckman will let me go deep cover or something. I don't know anymore. All I have is the damned job."

"What about the damned Game of yours, Chuck? People would kill to be in your shoes. You're rich, successful and no one can say you didn't earn it."

Chuck got a strange look on his face. People would kill … "Carina, I know whose body that is. Take me back to the Den. Five minutes on the computer and we'll know for sure. No more damned collateral damage. This is the last time."

Casey couldn't refute Chuck's information. Motive, opportunity and method were all there in one neat bundle. What some people wouldn't do for money, power or revenge never ceased to amaze him.

* * *

The NSA provided the LAPD with the information he'd uncovered and assembled. A warrant was issued and executed at the home of Wilma Pratt. He son, Leonard Pratt, lived in the basement. Police found machine tools, timers, blasting caps, incendiary materials and enough stolen C-4 to take out a large portion of a city block. And he hadn't been home since Tuesday evening. DNA evidence had been collected and would be compared to whatever they could obtain from the charred and broken corpse originally thought to be Bartowski.

* * *

**NSA Medical Facility  
****Baltimore, MD**

It was a different General Beckman who visited Sarah Walker just as it was a different Sarah Walker who received her.

"You're looking well, Sarah, and I'm surprised to see you sitting up in a chair. That's excellent progress. How's the pain?"

"It's fine. Actually, better than fine. There is none other than what I'd expect from the incision and aspirin handles that quite well."

"Sarah, there's something I have to tell you. It's about…"

"I know, General, I figured it out. He's dead. He did this for me and he died not knowing if it was successful. But he would have had hope. He always did. He always had such faith in people. He only saw the good side, never the bad."

"Who are we talking about, Sarah?"

"Bartowski. Who else? First an asset, then an agent, now a memory. Who else would have done all this for someone he only hoped might… I'm sorry. I'm a little emotional. Dr. Kogyo says it's the response my body has to coming off the painkillers. I'll be fine. Yes. I'll be fine."

"What if he were still alive, this asset, agent, and memory. What if he were still alive and kicking, being a pain in the ass and making my life difficult but somehow more full with his presence in it. What then?"

"I…He came to see me when I was at the lowest point in my life. It was raining and I made him stand outside and talk through the intercom on the security gate. I could see him from the window. He looked so bedraggled in his soaking wet clothes but he looked so intense and focused. I sent him away with his head full of lies about someone else in my life and possible marriage. He looked so defeated. You could see it, the slumped shoulders, he didn't stand straight and proud any longer and he was broken and I did it."

"Yes. He came to see me. Was waiting in my office when I arrived. He was still soaking wet. But he was so alive, Sarah. He bargained away his retirement, his freedom, gave me five years of a reintersected Chuck Bartowski and do you know what for?"

She shook her head. She didn't really want to know. It would just add fuel to her depression.

"He wanted your medical files, nothing more. Just the files, and access to your on-going treatment records. He had a plan. If he'd told me about the plan before he committed I'd have given him the records without any qualms at all but he didn't. He condemned himself to five more years of a life he hated more with every breath. He had hope."

Sarah was openly weeping now. Holding her head in her hand and trying to stifle the sobs.

"And he still has hope, Sarah Walker, because he's still alive and kicking and being the obnoxious pain in the ass he's so well known for being. They missed. He's alive. It wasn't his body. It's probably the body of the bomber who hadn't learned as much as he thought in the Army. We don't know for sure yet. DNA results will tell us."

"Now, Sarah, pull yourself together. This is a time to be happy and thankful, not wallowing around in self-pity and guilt. That seems to be Bartowski's province, anyway. In some respects he's still the same innocent man who was upset about Bucharest and who's loyalty I put to the test in Bermuda. I swear the man does not have an ounce of self-preservation instinct in his entire body. So my question to you is simple, Sarah Walker. What was he hoping for?"

She didn't expect an answer. All she wanted to do was initiate the process Walker herself would have to complete herself.

"You think about the answer. I have to go but I'm glad you're feeling better. I expect to see you on your feet the next time I see you, young lady. And eat something fattening, Sarah, you're all skin and bones." _When did I become the Jewish Grandmother? Oy Veh, Bartowski, you have a lot to answer for._


	25. Ashes Ashes We All Fall Down

TheGame23

T/N: You might want to re-read the previous chapter since I've been partying at Mardi Gras and freezing my butt off. It was cold last night. Saw Drew Brees. Sorry, Colts Fans. Ya lost. Nic

_You never really tried or so it seems  
I've had more than myself to blame  
I've had enough of trying everything  
And this time it is the end...  
_**'The Path of Thorns'** – Sarah McLachlan

* * *

Rita Jorgenson's contacts could smell good TV. It was what they were paid for and what they lived for. The TMZ people descended on Cerberus with cameras and found that the ET gnomes had beaten them there and already had an interview and promo copies of the SpyGirl Game. Production had ramped up and the first 40,000 copies were already consigned to the big box stores and outlets such as GameStop. A local outlet had paid 150% over wholesale to ensure it got the first 1,000 copies. They called asking for another 500 copies since their original order had been.

Rita had found her calling in life. She pulled the TMZ crew away and leaked an exclusive regarding the Death Match and Leonard Pratt's responses. She made Chuck look like a knight in white armor and anyone at Cerberus who was interviewed just corroborated her story.

**Law Offices of Miranda Booth & Associates  
Beverly Hills, CA**

Miranda Booth had been unable to reach Chuck and had left several voice mails, each increasingly loud and desperate. ET was camped in her lobby and she needed a statement from him. 'Chuck, if I don't have a statement from you within 30 minutes, I'll just tell them we spent the night at the pool house and you can deal with the grief.'

She wanted to take back the message the instant she pushed 'send'. If whoever was trying to kill Chuck decided to kill her…

"Chuck, I'm sorry. Please call me. I won't say a word to anyone about our night together. You slept on the couch in the pool house if anyone asks. Now, call me. As your lawyer, I need to advise you of certain opportunities in all this. But Chuck, that night, while incredible, cannot be repeated. Your life is far too violent and I'm not going to become what you call collateral damage. Call me."

**Ruins of Chuck's Apartment  
****Los Angeles**

Casey's wife had given him explicit instructions. "Johnny, find that damned bracelet. It was behind the pictures in a small box. Find it and bring it here. I won't let him wait. It's so unfair."

He had a wrecking bar and was lifting what looked like bookshelves when he spotted the small jewelry box. Eureka! Now maybe she'd shut up about this girly crap and they could settle down for some serious honeymooning.

Actually, he thought his wife was being very canny. He'd have to watch himself in the years to come. Deviousness was her middle name.

**NSA-LA  
****Wizard's Den**

"General, this is not my fault. The LA Times ran the piece on the bombing giving my name. NSA should have rented it in an assumed name. As for the ET thing, that was coincidence, fate, whatever you want to call it. I was on my way out anyway so it was no big deal. But now…"

"No one's blaming you, Agent. You're just too well known a face to be effective. I'm pulling your commitment, Chuck. You're going back on retired status. I'm sorry. We'll provide protection for you but ultimately you'll be on your own. I don't see any other options."

"And this thing in my head? What about it? You're throwing me to the wolves. You know I won't break, I'll execute erasure first. Unless that's what you really want in the long run."

"There _is_ one option available. It would mean you actually dying in public. Your family would be allowed to know in advance but contact in the future would be limited to controlled visits and of course, emails from and to protected accounts. You'd get a new identity and be on active status again. Your assets in the game would be funneled to you through a blind trust. This is the option I'd recommend."

"Give me some time to think about it. I didn't ask for any of this and now you're snatching Chuck Bartowski away and giving me limited options. I need some time, General."

"Fine. Let me know when you've made your decision. As of now you're still covered as an active agent but that time period is extremely limited."

She disconnected. He was right. None of this was his fault and the clerical error at NSA was going to cost them a valuable agent/asset. At least in a WitSec environment he could still run the occasional mission and be used in a consulting capacity. He'd need a full-time watcher. Someone on the retired list who wouldn't drive him crazy.

Chuck called Miranda back, told her he was probably going to have to go 'deep cover' and requested her services in managing his blind trust. He told her that lawyers at the NSA would funnel the funds to his account but she'd never be able to speak with him again. It was probably best for her from a safety standpoint. She readily agreed.

* * *

**Cerberus Games**

Chuck had called Rita Jorgenson and requested a meeting with her and the team.

Rita was overwhelmed with all the requirements of the distribution process and welcomed any input. What she and the others heard was not what they expected.

"Your stealth advertising and strategic leaks of information have created a pool of danger that you're all swimming in now. In order to get to me, they'll use you, hurt you, even kill you. So as of today, I'm gone. Any contact with me must be through my lawyer. No exceptions. I deal with very bad people. This is for your own good, believe me."

"But Chuck, we already have inquiries regarding the sequel."

"There are three games there. Look for them. One is the cover, the spy stuff. The other is the relationship game that draws in the female demographic. The third game is coded 'deep cover'. Figure it out. Now, I have to leave. The trolls are already in the lot. You Orc slayers better be prepared." Nerd speak. They all understood what he meant.

"Wait. There's one more thing. The game? You have to play with your heart. That's a cheat, too, if you want to use it. I told you there are three games in one. The spy crap for the shooters, the relationship and then, well, you figure it out. At the very end of the game, the ultimate winner will know my truth."

* * *

That night, ET ran an 'exclusive' on Chuck Bartowski, his actions on the Red Carpet, the attempt on his life and, of course, the new game he'd written. The talking head commented that all attempts to reach him had failed although he was seen leaving the Federal Building in L.A. and driving out of the city.

The last 15 seconds mentioned that his public persona was providing a perfect killing zone for those enemies he'd made while an operative. The overlay on the screen was of Chuck on the Red Carpet with crosshairs superimposed over his head.

**NSA Medical Facility  
Baltimore, MD  
3 days later**

Sarah Walker had walked the entire length of the physical therapy suite several times unaided and unassisted. The doctors responsible for this miracle accepted each other's congratulations and then left. They didn't even say goodbye to her.

She'd seen ET's latest on Chuck and had called Carina but she said she was in a meeting and would call her back but never did.

She called Carina again that night. She'd made a decision. Now that she could walk, and with continued therapy, run again, nothing could stop her. She was whole again and wouldn't be an embarrassment to him.

"Walker, have you called Chuck yet?"

"No. I'm still trying to figure out just what to say to him. He's done all this. All this after I told him I had someone else. He still did it. What kind of man is he?"

"He's a fool. He's an idiot. He's, my husband's favorite, a moron. He needs adult supervision in his life. He's a loose cannon and he has no sense of self-preservation. Beckman's planning on cutting him loose even though the NSA screwed up putting his real name on the lease. A stupid clerical error's going to get him killed. And Beckman's 'sorry' but his face is too well known to be of 'further utility'."

"But what about the thing in his head? He's still valuable."

"Beckman knows his damned sense of honor won't allow capture. He'll execute that damned erasure option and execute the dump. You know he's capable of it. He's done it twice before but was interrupted both times. I'm telling you this as _his_ friend, Sarah, not yours."

"Twice? But…"

"Hell, you've dragged him through broken glass and still he's crawled back waiting for word from you. Either tell him you love him or tell him you don't. It's simple. He's had incredible faith in you. He told me once. He was roaring drunk and wallowing in self-pity. 'Y'know, Mrs. Casey, she never actually told me she loved me, not even once.' It was in Vegas after he forced Johnny and I to confront our love and do something about it."

"I couldn't before. I can now. I promise I'll call him, Carina. I'm coming home to be with him. Just watch over him till I can get there. I'm being discharged on Friday. I have some loose ends to tie up and then I'll catch a flight. Can you pick me up at the airport?"

* * *

**NSA-LA  
****Federal Building  
****Los Angeles, CA  
****Thursday 5:30pm**

Chuck waited in front of the Federal Building, leaning against the building, watching the traffic as commuters and office workers began their evening fight against the traffic.

A TV crew from one of the local TV stations had camped out opposite the Federal Building hoping to get an interview with Chuck as he waited for a cab to take him to a restaurant. He no longer drove a pool car and spent his nights in the Federal Building. They waved at him and he smiled and waved back. They'd been doing this dance since Tuesday and so far, no interview. They were persistent.

They were just setting up for the interview and the video tape was running and the reporter was giving sound levels to the technician when a Pacific Gas & Electric truck drove slowly down the street. Suddenly there was a 'brrrp' of automatic weapons fire and the truck sped up revealing Chuck's body as it slumped back against the shattered façade of the building, the series of pock marks defacing it interrupted by where the bullets had encountered Chuck Bartowski. He slumped down the front of the building leaving a red smear to mark his path.

Within minutes an ambulance and several carloads of NSA security people had cordoned off the area and Chuck's body was gently straightened and placed on a gurney for transport to a hospital.

Chuck Bartowski was dead, gunned down by unknown assassins because he was an NSA agent and a clerk had made an error in judgment when completing a leasing agreement. And it was all on tape. It would make 'good TV'.

**NSA Medical Facility  
****Baltimore, MD  
****Thursday 10:30pm EST**

She was dialing his number when Diane Beckman walked into her room and started speaking.

"Sarah, put down the phone and listen to me very carefully. I have a position open for you. It's not an operational one, more like a bodyguard position. It's in Fairhope, Alabama, outside Mobile."

"You're off the retired list. You'll be responsible for the care and well-being of an important government operative. You'll be expected to accompany him on his missions as his cover wife or girlfriend. You will not be participating in any of the actual operations. That's not your portfolio. His team will handle any operational safety issues. The only thing you are responsible for is his life. It will require a 24/7/365 commitment from you."

"General, I'm sorry. I'm leaving as soon as I can get a flight out tomorrow after I'm discharged. I'm going home to L.A. to be with the man I've denied myself for almost 4 years."

"But Sarah…"

"No. I'm sorry. I've made a commitment. I'm going home to be with Chuck Bartowski." She held up her right arm showing Beckman the bracelet. It had arrived via FedEx that morning. There was no note, just the bracelet.

Beckman sighed. "Sarah, you can't. Charles Bartowski was killed this afternoon in Los Angeles by persons unknown. I came over here when I realized you always watched ET since Bartowski's sudden fame. I wanted to spare you but now I can't."

"This is your assignment if you want it. Take a good look at it before you make any rash decisions."

She turned on the television set and sat down to watch the 'Breaking News Report' on ET with Sarah Walker and to provide whatever comfort she might need afterwards. Sometimes a little compassion worked both ways.

* * *

A/N**_: I had considered leaving it but even I, the Angst Meister, am not quite that cruel._**


	26. Alone Again Naturally

TheGame24a

**_I'm so afraid to love you, but more afraid to lose  
Clinging to a past that doesn't let me choose  
Once there was a darkness, deep and endless night  
You gave me everything you had, oh you gave me light  
_**"_I Will Remember You"_ – Sarah McLachlan

* * *

**NSA-LA  
****Wizard's Den  
****Thursday****4:30pm PST - Flashback**

"_Chuck, remember to take the pills right before you leave the building. It's critical. Now, I've got everything set. The pyrotechnics will activate when you leave this room so don't bump into anyone. I don't have to tell you the drill. We'll see you on the other side. We'll handle everything. I'm sorry she didn't call, Chuck. I did everything but beg…"_

"_You sent her the bracelet. There's nothing more that can be done. Let's get this over with. Keep an eye on Ellie for me. It's going to be a rough couple of days for her. Once the circus dies down she'll be all right."_

"_Remember where to stand, Chuck. I've got the face of the building prepped. Casey will be driving the van and I'll be the shooter. Don't worry, Chuck, it's going to be OK."_

* * *

**L.A. County Morgue  
****Thursday 6:55pm PST - Flashback**

_A man and woman came into the morgue through the rear entrance. The diener was $200 richer and pulled out the drawer containing the body bag and unzipped it._

"_Yeah, that's him. Charles Bartowski. Definitely him. Check the photo so we can give the few Elders left on the Supreme Council verified confirmation."_

"_Yeah, that's him. One dead intersect. Shame we couldn't recruit him but she told us he had scruples and ethics and wouldn't turn traitor. Well, this set's back the Project Omaha to square one." He used his cell phone to take a picture of the body. The woman touched his face. "Cold. He's dead."_

_The diener zipped up the bag and closed the drawer after the two people left._

_Twenty minutes later his supervisor told him to leave for the day. The body would be picked up by a mortuary for handling and because of the nature of the incident, confidentiality was required until the family could be notified. He didn't care what became of the stiff. He left to smoke a cigarette and count his money. He was being paid not to work and that appealed to him._

_The drawer was opened again and the bag was unzipped. _

"_OK, Chuck. Nap time is over." She didn't expect a response. She injected the antidote to the drug he'd taken immediately prior to leaving the building. The drug was fast-acting and simulated death by reducing the heart rate, body temperature, and respiration and suppressing many of the body's responses to stimuli._

_The antidote would take anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour to reverse the drug's effects. She sat down on a stool beside an autopsy table and took out her cell._

"_Beckman, secure."_

_"Carina Casey, secure. The antidote's been given and now I'm waiting. The two who left confirmed the body as being Bartowski's. We have them on video. Both are NSA and I went through qualification with one of them. The other is Melissa Sanchez of NSA HR. Pick them up after they deliver confirmation, General, then we'll squeeze them for information on the sleeper cell."_

"_Fine, Agent Casey. An NSA business jet is waiting for you at LAX. Team Intersect – LA is closed. You and Colonel Casey and Agent Carmichael will reestablish in Mobile after you settle in at your new residences. Good job, Agent Casey. Only one loose end remained and I just took care of that. She was going to join him in L.A. if it's any consolation. Said she was going to the man she'd been denying herself for almost 4 years."_

"_She should have called him. Just picked up the phone and called him."_

"_Well, she won't have to do that do that now, will she?"_

"_Will she be there or was this all for nothing?"_

"_It wasn't all for nothing. He's safe. We've found links to the Fulcrum sleeper cell inside NSA-LA. He can be productive again and start a new life free of all the old ghosts. And all this will make him a bloody fortune with the game. You really should play it, Carina. It's quite good. I never knew how some of their operations were really accomplished."_

"_I'll…yes, ma'am." She couldn't imagine Beckman playing a video game. Not unless there was enormous amounts of death and mayhem and deceit and treachery and double-dealing and backstabbing and cutting of throats._

_John Casey came in through the back door and kissed his wife on the cheek. "How much longer?"_

"_Any time now. I spoke with the General. She was with Walker when ET had their East Coast feed. She took it hard. Really hard. Seeing him die on television like that…I don't envy her."_

"_Well, tough. Paybacks are a bitch. She jerked him around for how long? Almost four years? I wouldn't have done what he did. I'd have let her suffer."_

_"Casey, don't be an asshole. He felt guilty, he loved her, and he did what he could to make things right. If the situation were reversed though, and it was him in all that pain, I don't know if she'd have had the willpower or determination to go on faith like that."_

"_Well, we have a schedule to keep. Help me get sleeping beauty up and over my shoulder. He can wake up on the plane. He's going to have a huge headache after he wakes up. Did you tell him?"_

"_Nope, but I brought some Advil. Once he stops throwing up he can take them for his headache."_

"_Evil woman."_

* * *

**Naval Air Station – Mobile  
****2:45am CST**

The Gulf Stream taxied to a halt outside the operations building and three passengers deplaned and got into a waiting car. The plane refueled and then departed for the last leg of its trip to NSA HQ.

**Evangeline Oaks Gated Community  
****Fairhope, AL  
****3:30am CST**

The car halted at the gate to an exclusive gated community. The guard shack was manned 24/7 by armed security personnel who were authorized to use 'deadly force' to prevent unauthorized entry. The entire perimeter of the community was monitored and any intrusion was met with an armed response team within seconds.

The car drove through wooded areas and finally turned off onto a side road. Ten minutes later the car stopped again at another manned gate, ID's were shown, and the vehicle was allowed to continue on.

There were only two houses in the cul-de-sac; both were fully furnished and awaiting the arrival of new tenants. Each was externally monitored and security was tight.

Chuck went with John and Carina to check out their place. He wasn't anxious to enter another empty house. All his things were in transit and even though it was nicely furnished he knew it would seem more like a hotel suite than a home.

* * *

**NSA Medical Facility  
****Baltimore, MD  
****Thursday 10:45pm EST **

They watched the murder of Chuck Bartowski on a breaking news segment of ET. Sarah was stunned and speechless and then the tears started and the self-loathing enveloped her.

"Sarah, Sarah. Stop this. Now. This will accomplish nothing. It's all a ruse, a sham to flush out Fulcrum moles and a sleeper cell in NSA-LA and save his life. It's not real. He's alive and Carina's giving him an antidote to the curare derivative used to simulate his death. It was all controlled by his team."

"Here's your new assignment. Open the file and look."

She opened the file and the first thing she saw was a photograph of two people so obviously in love that it hurt to look at it. She couldn't remember when the photo was taken. She'd never seen it. Ellie must have taken it. She looked so young and carefree and he looked so…

"Colonel Casey found that in the ruins of Bartowski's apartment. He sent it to me as a 'last resort' in case you declined the assignment. You were so compromised even back then. You should have told me. He would have been so much safer with a handler who loved him than with an assigned agent. All this angst could have been avoided. The NSA has long held the position, unlike the CIA, that a committed handler is much more effective."

"General, I accept the assignment. But why did you put me through that? Why couldn't you just tell me it was all a ruse?"

"Payback, Agent Walker, payback for what you did to him in Baltimore. Lying to him about some man in your life. You should have seen him, told him, found a way to get past your fears and … well, that is no longer an issue. I want you in place by this time tomorrow. We'll start tasking Team Intersect within the month so you'll need to reestablish your place in his life. His skills and abilities are needed now more than ever. The Supreme Council of Elders has been decimated thanks to Team Wizard and they're resorting to scorched-earth tactics."

"Does he know I'm his watcher?"

"No. His team is hopeful but he's in the dark. No sense getting his hopes up, was there? You could have declined the assignment. He's sacrificed so much for you and I didn't want an Odessa situation on my hands if you didn't join the team."

"Odessa?"

"Not mine to explain. You might ask one of the Casey's. They'll be more than willing to explain it. Just remember that you'd blown him off and been doing your damnedest to make him miserable. You haven't exactly been a nun all these years, Sarah."

* * *

**Evangeline Oaks Gated Community  
****Fairhope, AL  
****4:30am CST**

Carina insisted on accompanying Chuck to 'his' house. She knew he was feeling depressed and she wanted to make sure everything was fine before leaving him alone. He pressed his thumb to the door pad and the bolts slammed back releasing the door. He pushed it open and reached into the foyer and turned on the lights. The layout was pretty much the same as his partners'.

"Carina, go home. You're tired. I've been asleep most of the night. Go, please. I'm going to crash on the couch. I'm too damned tired to walk up all those steps. The grand tour will have to wait. Thanks for everything you and Casey have done for me. I don't say thank you enough."

"Well, I think the rose thing in the Den just about topped the list of impressive thank-you's. You freaked Casey out."

"Go. I can see you have something else to say but it'll wait until morning. Well, maybe early afternoon. This time zone change is going to take some getting used to."

"Chuck, about…"

"NO! No. It's over and done with. I don't have the energy to feel much more than tired. Go. Please. I'm about out on my feet. Dying sucks the life out of you, you know?"

"Fine. I'll come over and wake you for lunch. I'm cooking until we get better organized. And yes, I can cook. Sandwiches."

Chuck made it to the couch, sat down and was asleep before he knew it.

* * *

**Evangeline Oaks Gated Community  
****Fairhope, AL  
****11:45am CST**

The driver pulled up in front of Agent Carmichael's residence and helped the woman out of the back of the car. He carried her two suitcases to the door, smiled and left.

Her hip was aching. It was to be expected. She'd pushed herself a little to hard, too quickly, and now she was reaping the results. She needed to lie down for a while and rest the joint. She was almost limping and she could not have that, not now. It would be weeks before the supporting musculature was back to normal. She had nothing but time.

She pressed her right thumb against the plate and heard the bolts unlock. She pushed open the door and grabbed each of her wheeled suitcases and dragged them into the foyer. She was reaching for the light when she heard the unmistakable sound of the slide and safety being released on a pistol.

"Slowly, very slowly, extend your hands out in front of you. If you have a weapon, drop it now. Do it or I'll shoot to kill. I've had enough shit today to fill the damned superdome and I'm cranky. Dying does that. Move it! _Are you deaf_?"

She extended both hands forward, bringing her arms parallel to the ground and unknowingly exposing the bracelet.


	27. Love is Better the 2nd Time Around

TheGame24bTheGame24

I have been told to start 'disertating' if I want Cancun next month so I won't be editing for a bit. There are still chapters to go. Nic

"_**Tears are words the heart can't express"**_ - anonymous

* * *

"Freeze! Take another step and you're dead. That bracelet. Where did you get it?" His voice was hard and cold and menacing.

"C-Casey found it in the apartment wreckage and sent it to me. It's mine. You gave it to me. I'm the one. I've been stupid and vain and…and there never was another man in my life…just a few one-night stands but never anyone I ever thought was worth remembering. I made you stand in the freezing rain in Baltimore, I lied to you, I couldn't walk and I wouldn't saddle you with someone you'd pity more than love. But…"

"Why are you here, Sarah? Why aren't you in the hospital in Baltimore?"

The pistol never wavered. His voice was strong and resolute. It was his eyes that betrayed him first.

She saw him sitting on the couch, pistol extended but with his eyes closed. As she made her way slowly and unthreateningly toward him she saw the tracks of his tears from under his closed eyelids. She pushed the pistol aside and sat down beside him. The pain receded somewhat and she sighed in relief.

"I'm here because Beckman offered me a second chance. Chuck, I'm too damned sore to do it, so would you bring me the black suitcase on the left. Open it and take out the folder and give it to me, please." She winced as she heard the pleading in her voice. She didn't need pity from him.

He pulled the suitcase over to her and opened it, removing the folder and handing it to her. She opened it and handed him a photograph.

He sighed and ran a fingertip along her face in the photo.

"I thought this was destroyed by the bomb. It was the only one. Ellie shot it in our kitchen back before things turned to shit between us, Sarah. I kept it next to Miranda's. Ellie called it my shrine and I suppose it was. You were always the first thing I'd see when I got home. Somehow it made things bearable, coming home to you."

"Miranda knew how I felt about you. She knew she was my second choice and she told me she was OK with it. She was lying but she didn't think I knew."

"I'm so sorry for all of this. It was my fault you were hurt. It was my fault Miranda's dead. It was my fault all those people in Bucharest died. I couldn't convince Beckman that Graham was a Soviet mole now working for the Russian Federation and probably Fulcrum."

"Shhh. Don't talk. None of that's true, sweetheart. You didn't hurt me, hurt those people, or hurt Miranda. You tried to protect us all and no one would listen. Shhh. It's OK, Chuck. I'm OK. We're both going to be fine. Thanks to you, and only you, I'm healed. Only the surgical incision and stitches remain. The constant wearing pain is gone and you made that happen."

She had to keep him from babbling on. She knew he was running on empty and so was she. All that bottled up emotion she felt for him was going to spill out and have her crying and he couldn't handle any more tears.

"Chuck, could I just lie down here with my head in your lap for a bit? The flight, the long drive…"

He stood and scooped her up like she was a baby. He was very careful of her injured leg and he carried her up to the master bedroom and gently placed her on the bed.

"I'll go get your suitcases and you can change into something comfortable to sleep in."

He was gone before she could stop him. All she needed to sleep was him beside her.

He brought up her suitcases and put them on one side of the bed, zipped them open and then left. She could hear him in the kitchen making coffee. She rolled over and pulled out a t-shirt, sleep pants, hairbrush and tooth brush and walked slowly into the bathroom.

This wasn't quite the reunion she'd envisioned.

He was nervous. He was pathetic. He sat at the kitchen table waiting for the coffee to brew. He made a mental note to thank who ever had provisioned this place. They thought of everything.

It had been 10 minutes and he hadn't returned. Maybe he fell asleep. He looked so tired and worn, like he hadn't slept in days or if he had, not very well. Steeling herself and walking slowly and very carefully she went down the stairs and into the kitchen. He was standing there, staring at two cups of coffee. His back was to her.

Sarah walked up to his side, putting her arm around his waist and holding on for balance and because she hadn't felt him in almost 4 years. She looked up at him and saw tears trickling down his face. He looked devastated and she didn't know why. She saw scars around his eyes and mouth and a healed gash below his lower lip. He looked older, stressed, but he'd never looked better to her. Whatever was wrong – she'd make it right.

Softly, because a normal tone of voice would have betrayed her own nervousness, she asked him what was wrong. "Hey, Chuck, it's OK. We'll fix whatever's wrong. Please, don't cry, sweetheart. Tell me what's wrong."

He just shook his head and looked down, his eyes closed, not wanting to answer.

"Please, Chuck, tell me what's wrong." Her mind was a cascade of fear. He didn't want her. She disgusted him. She'd changed; they'd changed. He was having regrets.

"Please, Chuck. You're scaring me."

"I forgot. I can't remember. How could I forget something so simple and so commonplace? I don't remember how you take your coffee, Sarah. Of all the mundane things, I can't remember."

"Oh, baby, we have the rest of our lives to remember things and to learn new things about each other. That's the joy of being in love for the second time. We get to do it all over again." She knew it was important to him. She wasn't making light of it.

She could understand how something this trivial could sum up the last four years.

"Chuck, look at me." It was time. Four years was long enough to wait.

"I love you, Chuck Bartowski. I always have, ever since, hell, it seems like I've always loved you. I should have told you in Burbank instead of being an ass of an agent. I hate being an agent. It's gotten between us, kept us apart for the last four years but now it's brought us together and I'll never leave you again."

He started to speak but she put her fingers over his lips.

"Please, carry me to bed, slip in beside me and let's sleep. I hurt, you're exhausted, and all we need is each other. Not a word. Not a syllable. Just wrap me up in Chuck and we'll sleep. We have the rest of our lives to relearn how to be Chuck and Sarah. A four or five hour delay won't matter."

She woke 4 hours later feeling better than she had in months. His side of the bed was empty and cold so he'd been up for a while. She slipped out of bed and walked to the bathroom, smiling because the ache and pain were gone. She went to wash her hands and noticed that the bracelet was missing.

She walked quickly back to the empty bed and tossed the sheets and blankets around thinking it had slipped off her wrist or the clasp had broken while she slept. In frustration she stripped the bed and checked for the bracelet. It was gone. Had he taken it back? Had he changed his mind?

She dressed in loose-fitting, comfortable clothes, slipped on a pair of loafers and walked down to the kitchen.

Chuck was sitting at the kitchen table drinking a cup of coffee and staring at the bracelet he held between his fingers.

"Chuck, that's mine. You gave it to me. It means… you told me you'd given it to the woman you wanted to marry. Have you changed your mind, Chuck? Have I changed that much? Have we changed that much? I told you I loved you but you didn't return the sentiment this morning. Is it too late for us?"

He looked at her, his expression one she couldn't ever remember seeing before. He stood and walked over to her and put his hands on her shoulders and rubbed circles with the pads of his fingers and just smiled a slow, secret smile. He'd left the bracelet on the table.

She put her palms against his chest to push him away. He was toying with her and she didn't like it one bit. Was this payback?

"Chuck, say something, damn it! Please. Don't just…" She couldn't meet his gaze. She looked away from his stare, tried to push him away, looked down and…

A sparkle caught her eye on the third finger of her left hand.

"Does that answer your question, Sarah?"

He'd taken back the bracelet and given her something more tangible and far less tentative. The engagement ring was a perfect complement to her hand, significant but not gaudy, noticeable but not distracting. Like everything else he'd done for her, to her, and with her, a simple gesture carrying heartfelt meaning.

She leaned her head against him and nodded. She didn't trust herself to speak yet and just let her arms slip around him and pulled herself as close to him as possible.

She had several extraneous thoughts simultaneously. She had no makeup on. He'd gotten taller and broader. He'd never really given up on her. They would never be able to have children. He still hadn't said he loved her. She'd never kissed him outside of the cover.

They stepped apart when they heard the bolts open on the front door. Chuck reached out and swept Sarah behind him as he drew his pistol and aimed it toward the living room. He didn't know who had thumb print access to the house and he would take nothing for granted, especially not with Sarah unarmed.

Carina stepped from the dining room into the kitchen and yelped and raised her hands. This Chuck was different. This Chuck was in full protective mode and she didn't know what to expect.

Sarah was peering out from behind Chuck, holding a kitchen knife in throwing position.

"Well, I see you're awake and you... hello, Sarah. I just came over to invite you to lunch…both of you."

"You cooked, Carina?" Sarah snarked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah. Sandwiches. So, let's go before that bottom-less pit of a husband I married eats them all."

"Are you hungry, Sarah?"

"I could eat, yeah. I'd like to see Casey again. It's been a while."

"We'll be over in a minute, Carina. I just want to change clothes."

Carina gave him a knowing smirk and left, swaying her hips a bit more than usual. She loved teasing Chuck. And she had more 'get-evens' planned for that damned stunt with the rose.

"Do you feel well enough to walk over there? I didn't think about that. Sorry. I shouldn't have put you in that position."

"I'm fine. The exercise will do me good. Sitting down for a long while, like in a plane or car, that's still taxing. Walking is good. In two weeks I get to try running. Nothing long, a few hundred feet at first then walking to build up the supporting muscles. Will you walk with me, Chuck?"

"Always."

"Good. Go change. I need to put on my face." She giggled at the look on his face. It felt so good to be here.

"Carry me, Chuck?"

He scooped her up and once again she was surprised by his strength. 'Buy More Chuck' would have strained. Of course, she had lost weight.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and enjoyed the sensation of being held by him. She'd never tire of it.

"You still hurting?" He was concerned. It hadn't been all that long since the series of surgeries.

"Nope. Just wanted to be close to you and having you carry me will do for now, sweetie. But just for now."

He set her down in the bathroom and went out to change clothes. She stood in the doorway watching him. He was still lanky but better toned and defined. When he reached for his pants she saw the slightly crooked fingers that she and Carina had broken trying to release his grip on Casey's throat in the Ops Center in Bucharest. She remembered holding an unconscious Chuck Bartowski after he'd been stunned by a Marine, rocking him back and forth and crying. How long ago that seemed now.

"Ready, Sarah?" He looked at her. She hadn't moved from where he'd put her down.

"Sarah, what's wrong? Are you hurting too much to go over to the Casey's? I'll carry you. It's not far."

"No, not hurting. Just watching. It's been so long since I could engage in Chuck-spying. I've missed it. I've missed you. And I realized something. Come here."

He walked over close to her, ready to scoop her up in his arms again if necessary. But it wasn't.

She reached up and put her arms around his neck and pulled his head down and kissed him…for the first time outside of the cover. She could get lost in the sensations. There was no lust, no urgency, and no furtiveness to the kiss. It was slow and deep and wet, a wonderful first kiss.

"Wow, what was that for?"

"I suddenly realized that, except for the bomb kiss, I'd never kissed you outside the damned cover. You do that really well, Chuck. We'll need to work on your hands though."

"My hands?" He spread him fingers and looked at them.

"Yes, you need to keep both hands on me at all times when we kiss. It's a team sport, Chuck, and you really need to participate…"

She didn't finish the sentence or the thought. His kiss was hungry, his tongue demanding entry and his hands running up and down her back, slipping up under her shirt feeling the smooth, warm skin and finally ending with his sigh and her giggle.

"Lunch. We'll need food, fuel, whatever. And I know you will want to see how long it'll take Carina to notice the bracelet replacement."

He scooped her up and carried her downstairs and over to the Casey house. She left a house ringing with her laughter.

* * *

While Chuck and Casey checked out the SUV parked in Casey's garage, Sarah took Carina aside to ask some questions about their situation and Chuck.

"Carina, what's the Odessa Option? Is it some kind of last-resort option for the team? It sounds ominous. Beckman mentioned it but wouldn't explain it. She said 'ask the Casey's.'"

"I can't really answer that, Sarah. Casey knows all about it. I came in after things had settled down and caught just the tail end of the situation. All I know is when Chuck brought up the Odessa Option Casey got pissed and Beckman suddenly found reasons to keep Chuck safe. They don't talk about it and Chuck uses it as a last resort when Beckman's pulling her usual crap."

"Tell me about Miranda. I feel like she's still in his heart and I don't want to create a problem between us. He loved her enough to propose so he must have had real feelings for her. What was she like?"

"Again, Sarah, I came in after she died. Chuck discovered that Graham was murdering his competition in the CIA and had tried to kill him but got her instead. He orchestrated the whole assassination but Beckman wouldn't let him close enough to kill him. She tasked others. Casey said he resigned when he first brought her the evidence and she wouldn't do anything about it. He disappeared for almost two weeks. When he came back, he brought the Odessa Option to the table."

"What about the Jill-clone in L.A? What's the story there?"

"She's his lawyer, nothing else. They used each other as dates for social things with his game and her practice. Nothing there. Believe me. I'd know. I could write the book on Chuck."

"I've missed so much. He got real upset this morning, in tears, because he couldn't remember how I took my coffee. Well, we have a long time to relearn all there is to learn about Chuck and Sarah."

Carina hadn't really paid any attention to Sarah until then. She'd just nodded and paid lip service to any comments.

"Sarah, if you hurt him, break his heart again, there's nowhere you could hide that I couldn't find you. Keep that in mind. I love Chuck like I love John, he's that important to me. If you're going to leave, do it now before he gets used to you. Please, do it now, not later."

Sarah held up her hand. "Things have changed between us. We're moving forward. No more looking back unless it's to learn from our mistakes. I told him I loved him for the first time today. I kissed him outside of the cover for the first time today. I won't leave him. We're together, like it always should have been."

"Don't bring up Odessa then. Let it lie. I don't think we girls want to know what it is. I know I don't. I saw what was done to him in Bermuda and I think the intersect dump somehow saved him. He was a mess, Sarah, but he wouldn't crack. Never said a word just dumped it and took his chances. Spooky."

But Sarah was a spy and spies never like other people's secrets.


	28. Explaining Odessa and Sarah makes Rules

TheGame25

_**Sometimes new love comes between old friends. Sometimes the best love was the one that was always there**_ – Anonymous

* * *

**Carmichael Residence  
****Evangeline Oaks Gated Community  
****Fairhope, AL**

Chuck made spaghetti and garlic bread and a large salad for dinner, not wanting Sarah to stand too long. She puttered around behind him, stirring, tossing and messing around with stuff. She wasn't bored, she just didn't know how to cook. Chuck had learned a lot living on his own and with Ellie and she was totally dependent on his culinary skills – and had no intentions of dissuading him from using them.

Chuck hadn't said much since coming back from the Casey's. Sarah was still trying to come to grips with Carina and Casey being married. She knew the 'Prague incident' was a sore spot with John but never dug for details but Carina had blurted out that it was the one time she'd gotten him in cuffs and he couldn't 'perform'. Casey turned beet red and sputtered some excuse before taking Chuck out the garage to check out the SUV they'd been provided with. There was one in Chuck's garage also.

She broached the subject of the two researchers and Chuck just sat back and smiled that damned secret smile of his. She wanted to know how he found them and convinced them to work together. What they accomplished would benefit thousands of people in the future. She couldn't understand why he was so reluctant to talk about it.

"Sarah, please, let it go. I found them, showed them your files, schmoozed them a bit and got their agreement. They got along famously and each one's work dovetailed so perfectly with the other's that it was spooky. But I got what I wanted out of the deal and don't care what they do in the future. I'm very objective-oriented now, not wallowing around worrying about decisions. I just make 'em and move on."

"Well, I'm damned grateful you did it. I never would have had the courage to approach you when I was still in that damned wheelchair."

He reached across the table and grabbed her hand, holding it tightly. "If you ever are in pain and don't tell me, if you have a problem and don't let me in, if you have doubts and don't tell me…I won't tolerate secrets between us, Sarah. Understand that. No secrets, no uncertainties, no more lies and definitely no more unasked questions. We're a couple and we share good and bad. If you're not committed to that, then please, leave now."

"No. I won't leave you again. I agree wholeheartedly. No more secrets."

"Good. Now, after I clean up these dishes I want to do a walk-around, find out what's around the house. I don't want any surprises. Walk with me, sweetheart. The exercise will do us good. I don't normally eat this well or this much."

She decided to test his commitment to his own rules.

"Chuck, tell me about Miranda. What was she like?"

"While we walk. I'll tell you about her and anything else you want to know."

* * *

They walked down the road to the guard shack, said hello and then slowly walked back. He told her everything. She laughed about some of his training episodes and hugged him when he told her about the scuba training and the near-death drowning training and she laughed until she cried about the Armadillos. She could just imagine the image he must have had. She was a city girl, too, and he had to explain what 'Armadillos' were, not the animals, the boots.

He didn't cry when he talked about Miranda. He had good memories, cherished memories and she was desperately jealous of the woman who had saved him from depression, took out an instructor so he wouldn't divulge code word information and whose death would drive a gentle man to assassinate an intelligence director. Mostly she was thankful that he'd had her in his life. It would make her story more…acceptable when he asked the inevitable.

"So, that's about it. She died and it was almost the worst moment of my life. I felt so empty and hollow. So I threw myself into the job and got an inspiration for a program and the rest you know."

"Chuck, what's the Odessa Option?" She was afraid to ask but she had to know. He stepped away from her abruptly, pulling her off balance and she nearly fell. He scooped her up in his arms and offered hurried apologies and carried her the rest of the way to their home, telling her what she wanted to know. He knew there would be consequences. "Basically, I found an 'off switch' and I use it when I want something badly enough to die for it. It's also my 'out' if I get taken."

He went into excruciating detail of what happened the first time he exercised the option, how he used it to deceive Beckman and almost escaped the intersect's hold on his life only to find it was intertwined with his and couldn't be removed without…consequences. And how he'd 'dumped' the intersect when he was captured in Bermuda. The he told her simply that he used it for leverage.

"You bastard! Put me down. How dare you threaten to 'dump' the intersect knowing you'll suffer brain damage or worse just to get your way. You're all I have and I could have lost you because of a damned procedural disagreement? My God, promise me you'll never resort to that. It's a hideous thing to hold over people who need and depend on you."

"I can't and won't promise you. If I'm taken, it's the only defense I have. I'm not that strong. I'd crack like a walnut and blab if it got bad. Trust me, Sarah, it would be a mercy. What's the difference whether I do it or Casey or Carina does it? Think about it. It was my fate in Burbank when 2.1 came on line. Oh, wait, you were already gone. Casey was tasked to kill me when Graham put 2.1 up and it ran without blowing up. It was too slow and unreliable so they cancelled the sanction. Ask him. He'll tell you."

"Chuck, please, promise me you'll only exercise the option to save your life if you're taken. Promise me you'll never use it to gain 'leverage'. Please!" She knew if he promised he'd never break his word to her. He wasn't wired to be dishonest.

"I promise you that I'll only do it if I have no choice. Accept it. It's how it has to be." She didn't like but accepted it for now. She'd go at it later, much later, from a different angle.

Carina was right. She didn't need to know certain things. She'd be damned careful what questions she asked Chuck in the future and be certain she could live with the answers.

"I accept your promise. Now tell me all about the game you wrote. I heard it's a best seller already. Carina told me Beckman was quite impressed with it."

"Beckman's played the game? Oh, crap. Wait until she finds out how they drew her…maybe we could run away, Sarah, go someplace no one has ever heard of and hide. I'm toast."

She laughed hard and long. It felt so good to be around him again, talking like friends again, looking forward to all the surprises they'd find in each other.

* * *

Casey came over at about 9pm. He and Carina had had a fight about the Odessa Option. Chuck listened as he bitched and whined then delivered his friend's famous line in response.

"Man up, John. She's right and she's wrong. Accept where she's right and apologize then set her straight on where she's wrong. You'll both win and you won't have to sleep on the couch."

"Easy for you to say. She never admits she's wrong. And she holds a grudge. She's still pissed about the rose."

Sarah had gone over to Carina's when Casey started his tale of woe. Carina's was similar but her viewpoint was different, of course.

"Sarah, he just doesn't understand that Chuck will pull the plug one day and no one will be there to stop him. He did it in Bermuda. He was a wreck. Whoever took him thought they'd killed him and threw him on a trash heap in some little collection of bungalows that didn't even have a name. The police traced him back to the hotel from his passkey. All he'd say to the doctors was that he wouldn't betray his country and then mumbled the starter sequence. That's the last time he spoke until Los Angeles when he took on his bitchy lawyer."

"Chuck promised not to do it unless security depended upon it. He promised. He won't break his promise to me, Carina. But did Casey really almost sanction Chuck after I left? Is that true?"

"Yeah, and John was really upset about it. He almost told Chuck to run but his damned sense of duty…luckily they pulled it. The CIA's version of the intersect cooked and the newer one was too slow and unreliable. So yeah, he almost got sanctioned but it's not an option now. He's too damned valuable."

"So, this lawyer, she really looked like Jill, didn't she. I saw her on TV when Chuck took down the acid-thrower. He looked so handsome and the way she hung on him. Are you certain there wasn't anything there?"

"Fire and gasoline. He tore her a new one the first day they met and then blew her off for…"

"For what, Carina? He blew her off for what?"

"You. He flew to Baltimore to confront you in the hospital. He said it was going to be his last try at getting through to you and then he was going to let you go. That was when you invented your live-in boy friend and future husband."

"Go on, Carina." She was horribly afraid of where this was going.

"He sold himself back to Beckman for 5 years for your medical files. He told me later, during his infamous drunk in Vegas that he wanted a happy ending this time. I asked him what he meant. He told me what he told Beckman."

"What? Jesus, Carina, getting a straight answer out of you is like pulling teeth."

"He said, 'Carina, my mother was an agent. My father was an asset. You figure it out. History repeats itself. I just want a happy ending this time around'."

"Oh, my. I see. Everything makes sense now. I wondered…are they still alive?"

"He doesn't know. I don't think he cares anymore. He's never mentioned it or even alluded to it. But it explains his damned obsession with getting you whole again, doesn't it? Especially after your apartment complex security guard told him you lived alone, never went out and never got any mail or visitors. Then he went to Beckman."

"So, are you and John going to be okay now? I'd like to get back to him. I feel like if I don't see him or touch him every few minutes he'll disappear on me. I've never felt like this before. So _needy_."

"You love him. It shows. Too bad you didn't take a look at that picture before you left him in Burbank. Anyone who saw it would have seen the love. Damn, Walker, you are one dumb broad walking away from him. Dumb."

"Not any more. I'm never leaving him again. I'm leaving. I'll send Casey back. Go easy on him. He's having a hard time adjusting to losing an argument."

They both laughed. It was true. Casey never lost arguments, until he met Carina.

They passed each other on the way to their respective homes.

"She calmed down yet, Walker? Is she ready to listen to reason?"

"Oh, yeah. She's ready. So are you ready to listen?"

"Women!" He shook his head and went home.

She opened the door and walked in. Home had a whole new meaning to her now. This wasn't home. _He_ was home.

She found him in the kitchen reading over some files Beckman had sent via courier for him to review. "Going to be long, Chuck?"

"About another 30 minutes or so. You want to keep me company? You can look these over and see what I might have missed. I'm not infallible. I make mistakes. Check out my notes and see if you can make any sense out of what I've found."

"Ha! That'll be the day. No, I'm going to go soak in a hot tub. Don't stay up too late, sweetheart. I don't want to sleep alone, baby. I've been alone too damned long with out you. I want you right next to me so if I have a bad dream you'll comfort me and if you do, I'll be there for you. Don't be too long."

"Nag, nag, nag." But he loved it.

* * *

It was almost 11pm before he wrapped it up. He'd reviewed his notes and found a few threads the he wove into a possible hive location in, of all the unknown and unlikely places, Cleveland, Ohio. No one went to Cleveland. Except for two perennial losing sports franchises, OK the round ball team was pretty good, there wasn't much there – except access to the Great Lakes.

Fulcrum had found another revenue source – moving humans between Canada and the US, mostly Mainland Chinese who had taken advantage of Canada's vague borders to the north and slipped in.

Let ICE worry about it. He just reported it.

The bed was empty and the bathroom door was closed so he grabbed his sleep stuff and headed to the small bathroom off the guest room to get ready for sleep. The shower was hot and relaxing and as he shaved he thought back to all the other times he'd done this and wondered what made this time different? Except for his brief time with Miranda, he'd always been alone.

The bathroom door was still closed when he returned and he knocked but got no answer. He was worried. Maybe she'd fallen? He opened the door and saw her asleep in the cooling tub. She's wrapped a plastic bandage around the incision and soaked and fallen asleep.

He pulled the plug and let the water drain away and then he lifted her from the tub and wrapped her in one of the huge, thick bath towels they'd been given and carried her to bed when she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest murmuring something he couldn't make out. He hated to waken her but he had no choice. He didn't know how to remove the plastic wrap and she needed a clean dressing. Her nakedness didn't bother him and he wasn't sure why it didn't.

"Sarah, wake up. I don't know what to do next, Sarah. Please wake up."

She was barely awake but mostly asleep. She was warm and comfortable and had no intentions of listening to the nagging voice. On some level she knew she was naked and if the fool had gotten this far surely he could figure out what to do next. She mumbled a name and told him to do what he wanted with her.

Chuck felt a jolt of jealousy like he'd never experienced before but quashed it down with surprising ease. Neither of them had led cloistered lives. Things happened. They were human beings with human needs. He swallowed his disappointment and tried to wake her again.

Disappointment? He had no right, no expectation of fidelity; they'd had nothing for so long. He realized his disappointment was with himself and his reaction.

'_Let it go, Chuck. She's here with you now. Let it go.'_

'_I'm trying. I'm more disappointed with my own reaction.'_

'_Why? You're human. You loved her for so long without a hint of reciprocity. You're entitled to your feelings. Just don't let them show. It's not important now. NOW is important, not THEN.'_

'_How'd you get so smart, shadow man?'_

'_Had a good teacher.'_

He dried her off, found a t-shirt in his things that she could wear and figured the plastic wrapping and dressing could be dealt with when she awakened. He slipped into bed and took her in his arms and slept dreamlessly for the first time in a while.

Sarah woke with a start, almost a panic, not knowing where she was. She felt arms around her and a heady scent of…home. The tenseness fled her body and she slept undisturbed.

Morning was awkward. She was wrapped around her sleep partner like a vine through a trellis. For a moment she couldn't tell where he began and she ended. She'd thrown her injured leg over his during the night and his thigh was warm against her mons. She could stay like this forever except…

"Chuck, Chuck, I have to go to the bathroom. Please let go." She hated ending this but…

"Mmm, OK. But hurry back." He wasn't even close to being awake.

Sarah first noticed that the plastic wrapping on her leg was still there and that the dressing, while dry, needed changing. She was wearing his t-shirt, not her normal nightgown or sleep shirt. She must have really been tired. She vaguely remembered telling…shit. She remembered what she said exactly and wished she could forget. Wished _he_ would forget.

She unclipped the fastenings and unwrapped her thigh and stripped off the dressing. The stitches would need to come out soon. Carina could do it. She applied a new dressing and toyed with getting dressed but found the sight of him sleeping and waiting overwhelming. Grinning like an idiot, she slid in beside him and kissed him awake.

"'Morning. You're better than any alarm clock I ever heard of. Couldn't wake you last night so I just put a t-shirt on you and…"

"Shhh. It's OK. Really. I guess I was just tired. I had a big day yesterday. What are our plans for the day? I'd prefer staying right here but I know that's not going to happen."

"You're going to have to show me how that damned plastic seal works. And how to change your dressing. We'll need to run into NSA-Mobile and get scanned and logged in. I'm surprised Casey isn't pounding on the door demanding we 'move it'."

"It's Sunday, Chuck. Even agents take one day of rest. Well, OK, maybe some do. What would you like to do?"

He kissed her so thoroughly that her toes curled and she mewed when he broke off the kiss. "NSA-Mobile. You need a weapon and I want us scanned and ready. I also want to check out their version of the Den. Get some clothes on, future Mrs. Carmichael. You're killing me, Sarah, and I know it's way too soon for anything more than kissing but I'm just a guy and you know how we are."

He hadn't meant anything by it, she knew that. Still, it hurt her to hear it and she must have shown it.

"Hey, none of that. That was then, this is now. I'm your guy and you're my girl. It's the way it always should have been but we were too close to see that. Now, clothes, hair, makeup…actually you've never looked more beautiful to me than when I woke up and saw your face. Dumb, huh?"

"No. Sweet. You're right. This is now. So, get up, get dressed and we'll go in to town. I've never been to Mobile before. Why'd you pick this place?"

"My mom was born here. It seemed like a logical choice. Besides, it's mostly warm, the summers are incredible, you look great in a bikini and the panhandle beaches are an hour away. Either reason was enough."


	29. Horny Sarah vs The Game

TheGame26

Sarah called Carina and explained their plans for the morning and asked if they wanted to join them. Carina was out of breath and mumbled 'hell, no' and hung up the phone. Sarah stared at the phone for a moment and then blushed. This made Chuck laugh and he explained that Carina had a thing for 'morning intimacy'.

"How would you know, Chuck?" Her tone was somewhat frosty.

"Um, uh, well, uh, we started out as partners, sharing a room and I had to fight her off for the first week until I aimed her at Casey."

"So, do I have anything to worry about?" She knew Carina and if Chuck said he'd resisted her charms…

"No. It was right after Mira died. I'm not into pity fucking, Sarah." His answer was harsher than she'd expected but she took the implied rebuke in stride. "Sorry. I forgot. We live in the 'Now'. Forgive me?"

"Yeah. Of course." Sarah _was_ sorry, sort of. She'd asked and he'd answered.

"She pulled the same thing in Burbank back when you were still there. She didn't get what she wanted that time, either. She says I'm the 'one that got away'."

* * *

The drive into Mobile was quick since there was virtually no traffic. He wondered if the commute would wear on them, especially Sarah with her hip still not totally healed.

"Chuck, in a month I'll be fine, baby. You worry too much. I'm healing and so thankful you are a stubborn son of a bitch and wouldn't give up on us. I wouldn't have come to you, Chuck, if I were still in the chair. I would have ended it first. I had a stash of Vicodin and was planning on taking them all when you sent those doctors. You save my life twice. And I'm so glad."

She didn't know that her 'stash' had been discovered and replaced with ibuprophen. And she'd never know.

They checked into NSA-Mobile and were retina-scanned and then given a diagram of the building, the single NSA floor and the location of the Castle unit assigned to Team Carmichael.

Chuck asked for directions to the armory and was told 'There ain't one, agent. You shooters will find what you need in the unit. Order what you need but don't have through channels.' Chuck's eyes narrowed when he noticed the security guard was more interested in checking out Sarah's breasts then answering questions.

He leaned over the counter and pulled the man to his feet by his tie. "If I find you eyeballing my partner one more time I'll kill you, clear?"

"Y – Yes, Agent. Sorry, I…"

Chuck released the tie and the man fell back into his swivel chair suddenly finding the monitors incredibly interesting. Chuck took Sarah by the arm and led her to the elevators.

"Chuck, you shouldn't have done that, sweetie. It's not big deal. I'm used to it. It doesn't bother me." In truth, she was disgusted by the way the guard had 'undressed' her with his eyes.

"Well, it _is_ a big deal to me and it bothers _me_. You're not a piece of meat, Sarah. You're my fiancé and I will not tolerate anyone disrespecting you. Understand?" He was pissed and it showed. She'd never really seen this side of Chuck before and it…excited her.

"Yes, Chuck. I understand. Let's find the castle. I have something I need to do."

Chuck keyed in his ID and submitted to a retina scan, as did Sarah. The castle layout was totally different from the Den in L.A. For one thing, it was smaller, had no dormitory suites, only a single detention cell with prison-type bars and no range. It was totally unacceptable and he knew Casey would back him up on it.

He opened up communications with NSA-HQ and reported the castle activation. After confirmation was received electronically, he logged off and turned to Sarah to ask if she was done.

"No, Chuck. I've not even begun." She grabbed his ears and pulled his face down to hers and hungrily attacked his mouth, her tongue dancing over his. She reached down and was fumbling with his belt when he broke off the kiss and grabbed her wrists.

"No, Sarah, not like this. You're not healthy enough and I won't risk hurting you. As much as I want you now, I couldn't risk hurting you. Please, let's just wait until you're hip is healthy. Please?"

Big blue eyes drilled into coffee-brown ones and she smiled and licked her lips and then hugged him. "Chuck, let's go home, baby. I want to strip you naked and cover you with warm chocolate sauce and just indulge in my favorite fantasy…know what it is, baby?" He shook his head. Where had this Sarah come from?

She stood on her tiptoes and ran her tongue around his ear and whispered her secret Chuck fantasy that she'd concocted over the years. His ears turned bright red as did his face and she laughed with delight.

* * *

On the way home they passed a strip mall with a huge chain bookstore. On a whim he turned into the lot, parked and dragged her with him. There in the window were displays of his game, _SpyGirl_ and a large screenshot of the heroine and the hero in the hot kiss in front of the bomb.

"Chuck…Chuck…my God, Chuck…that's _us_. You wrote a game about _**us**_?" He couldn't decide whether she was shocked or pissed. He didn't care. He was on a mission to thwart her near-terminal horniness and force, yes, _force_, her to sublimate. And he had just the thing to do it.

He went in and bought two copies and came out and then dragged her away from the display.

"Chuck, you wrote a computer game about us? What…when…" He loved seeing her sputter. If she were angry, he'd deal with it.

They were passing another mall when she shouted, "Chuck, pull in here!" He did and she directed him to park at the first available spot.

She was sitting upright, still, unmoving. She appeared to have reached a decision and unhooked her seat belt and the crawled across the console and threw herself into his arms. The kiss was incredibly hot, deep and slow, the kind that burned an impression into your mind while it pumped blood to other places…

"I love you, love you, love you." Each punctuated by a kiss the last of which ended with her nibbling at his lower lip.

"Sarah, I'll make you a deal. Score more than 500 points and I'll have sex with you. If you don't score 500 but discover my secret we'll have sex. If you don't, we wait until the doctors give you a clean bill of health _**AND**_ you can run a mile without being winded _before we make love_. Fair enough?"

She knew about the computer games he played and would most likely imitate. First-person shooter games.

"Deal. But plan on being my sex toy for the next week or so, Chuck. This will be a snap!" She looked so sure of herself that he didn't have the heart to tease her. It would be bad enough putting up with her shitty mood when she couldn't break 30 points. She'd play like a spy while he wrote it like a man in love with a spy. He resigned himself to a very cranky Sarah in the days and possibly weeks to come.

* * *

**Evangeline Oaks Gated Community  
Fairhope, AL  
Sunday**

Sarah wanted to run in and run up a score and then get down to some serious bedroom time but Chuck just shook his head and said 'no'. "Sarah, I bought two copies of the game. One is for you and the other is for Carina. Who do you think will get the better score? And who do you think will discover my secret?"

"Not that skank Carina. I'll beat her score and learn your secret, honey, and then I'll buy all the Hershey's Chocolate Sauce in Fairhope and disconnect the phones and double-bolt the door. No one will see us for a week at least."

Chuck gulped audibly and that prompted another round of 'I love you kisses'. They walked over to the Casey's and knocked.

"Carina likes afternoon intimacy, too, so don't be surprised…"

The door flew open and Carina stood there in a robe, hair askew and glowering. "What is it this time, Sarah? It's Sunday. We have a lot of catching up to do."

"Carina, I brought you a present and a challenge." He outlined the challenge, leaving out the lovemaking portion, and gave her the game. She snickered at Sarah and said "Game on, Blondie. I'll know his secret and you'll never find out. And I'll beat your score by at least 10%."

While the two bickered, Casey and Chuck walked out to the garage.

"So, tell me about the Den?"

"It's small, no range, no vault, no dorms, the detention cell has bars on it and I'll bet the monitors are black and white. It's unacceptable for what we do, Casey, totally unacceptable." He showed him the floor plan and the diagram of the castle unit.

"Humph. Well, we'll have to see what else Beckman might have up her sleeve. I agree, totally unacceptable. We'll conference Wednesday since we're off until then. Now, what's with you creating competition between the girls? You know this cannot end well, Chuck."

"Yes, it can. You watch. Besides, Sarah and I have a very interesting side bet. To win, she has to totally be physically fit and be able to run a mile to NSA standards. And until then…no fooling around."

"Bartowski, you are a devious mother…"

"It's Carmichael, John, and my mother's dead." He turned and walked away looking for Sarah. He would tame her…to a point. Now if he could just survive the next few weeks.

Sarah practically ran home and pestered Chuck to show her how to load the game and sit with him while she reviewed the instructions and asked some leading questions.

"Sarah, I love you but I'm not cheating. You and Carina are on a level playing field. I'll tell you one thing and one thing only: play with your heart. Now, start at the beginning. Note the opening themes and especially the pre-game intro. I have things to do, sweetie. Let me know when you've won. I'll be upstairs, naked, waiting…don't be too long." He smirked then walked away laughing.

"Laugh all you want, Chuck, but I'll beat this game and be all over you within the hour. Better take a nap, baby, because you're going to need your strength."

She frowned when she heard his laughter. She watched as the game opened and she read the dedication. She got a lump in her throat and tears in her eyes. He'd written this before she'd come back and yet, there it was.

"Dedicated to the three women I've loved:

Sarah  
Mira  
C.C.

And to all those who man  
the watchtowers while we sleep"

She wasn't thrilled with 'C.C.' but knew he meant in the platonic sense. Or so she hoped. She knew Carina and thought she knew Chuck.

The opening scene took her breath away. It was a stylized Sarah as Gigi walking into the E-Mart and asking a nerdy looking Herb to fix her cell phone. The dialogue was almost verbatim and the voice used in the game could have been hers.

She was hooked.


	30. The Game The Castle The Sex

TheGame27

Someone asked for some smutty stuff. I don't do it well. I mean I DO it well, just don't write it well. So, I took notes the last time I did it...lol

Changing Rating to M

* * *

There were many things in her life that she regretted. Now she could add one more to the short list. Chuck's damned game and the agreement she'd made.

Her first attempt at the first sequential scenario of the game was a disaster. She scored reasonably well on the 'Operations' phase, 17, but on the 'Relationship' phase, she scored a dismal 4. _FOUR_! The game used weighted averages to compile a composite and her composite score was 24. The importance of the two phases shifted throughout the game depending on the scenario.

Chuck was impressed with her skill but not at all surprised with her poor showing on the personal interaction modes of the game. Women tended to do better on the interpersonal side – the relationship – while men tended to do better on the operations. Spies would do well in operations but suck at the relationship side because of their training and mindset.

"Charles Irving Bar…must you stalk me? I don't do well with people watching over my shoulder. And why are you breathing so loudly?"

"Sarah, I just came in to get a couple of beers. Casey and I are going over some…"

"Fine. Go. Have fun. I have to figure out what I did wrong. I'll bet that skank hasn't done nearly as well. Well, GO! Quit bugging me. I have to think."

He snickered. It wasn't like Sarah to be so…

"I heard that!"

He left and called Casey.

"Damn you, Chuck. You've created a monster over here. This is _our_ day and she won't leave that damned game. And she's getting pissy, Chuck. She only got a 26 on the first scenario and she's already threatened to 'cut his damned balls off', 'he' being _you_."

"I got beer. I'll meet you on your deck. I 'breathe too loudly'."

* * *

General Beckman called Casey. They'd been sitting on the deck drinking beer (Chuck) and whiskey (Casey) and neither were particularly thrilled with a Beckman call.

"Casey, secure."

"Beckman, secure. I read your email regarding the castle unit in Mobile and I have to agree. It's been several years since it was utilized and it was originally built during the Cuban Missile Crisis so it's…old and antiquated and doesn't reflect the current mission of the NSA. A new unit will be delivered and put in place within the cul-de-sac. Also, a helipad will be constructed for emergency use. I think that should resolve your 'issues', Colonel Casey."

"Yes, ma'am, it certainly does. Thank you."

"How are things, Colonel? Every one settling in? Any problems I should be aware of?"

"No ma'am. We're getting acclimated and we'll be ready for tasking anytime we're needed."

"Excellent. Um, is Agent Carmichael there by any chance?"

"Yes, ma'am, one moment." He handed Chuck the phone and shrugged at Chuck's quizzical look.

"Carmichael, General."

"Agent Carmichael, how are things with Ms. Walker? Any physical problems? She needs physical therapy, mostly walking, working up to running."

"Yes, ma'am. We're walking a lot and exercise is no problem. Sitting for long periods is a problem but should resolve itself as her musculature strengthens."

"Um, Chuck, how do I find the damned key to the vault in scenario 6?"

Chuck looked at Casey and then got up and walked to the front of the house. He spoke softly and rapidly and then disconnected. He didn't want Casey to know that Beckman was also playing the game. He didn't want to provide Carina with any inside information that Casey might have overheard. Beckman playing _SpyGirl_! Maybe she's mellow out a bit?

Chuck ambled on back to his own place. He loved it here. The trees would soon have their leaves again and he looked forward to Sarah and the beaches of the Florida panhandle. Maybe he'd see about buying a condo down there in Destin or one of the smaller towns for them and as an investment. Maybe Ellie and Devon could visit under the guise of a 'time share'. He'd bring it up with Sarah over dinner. Life was suddenly full of possibilities.

* * *

Sarah was hunched over the laptop studying the scene presented by the game. She'd progressed from scenario one to the second scenario. When he walked over and stood beside her she looked up at him with tears in her eyes.

"I never knew. I never realized…"

"Yeah, well, that was a long time ago and we're together now. So, what about dinner? Want me to cook or would you like to go out and see what the town has to offer?"

"I'd like to lie down for a bit. I've been glued to this chair and…"

"Yeah, I know. Your hip's aching. I hadn't considered that when I got you the game, babe. Let's both take a nap and then go out for dinner, just the two of us. Like…a date."

"Carry me?" She was probably hurting and Chuck felt guilty.

"Any time."

She snuggled against him for the short trip upstairs and when he leaned over to put her on the bed she moaned and he stopped, concerned.

"Need a pill?"

"No, I just don't want to let go. I like it too much."

"I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere."

He went into the bathroom and searched the cabinets until he found what he needed. He definitely needed to thank whoever stocked this place.

He stripped to his boxers and t-shirt. With a few quick motions he had her shoes, socks and jeans off and then motioned her to roll over on her side, facing away from him. This put her injured hip up.

"Sarah, do you trust me?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Don't move." He pulled off her panties and saw the faint network of scars tracing her leg from her wounds and operations. He shuddered as he remembered the blunt description of her status after the bombing of the embassy: 'crush injuries, she may lose her leg'.

He poured a generous amount of the massage oil into his palm to warm it and then began to stroke her hip, buttocks and the length of her thigh, being very careful not to put any stress on the tissues or muscles surrounding her incision.

"Ohhhhh, that feels wonderful. I won't break, sweetheart, you can be a little more aggressive…mmmm."

He worked the butt muscles, the muscles surrounding her hip joint and the long muscles in her thigh that were tight and knotted. She sighed and he knew he was doing the right thing. He'd worried initially about hurting her but it was pretty obvious that she was enjoying the impromptu massage.

"Chuck, please do both hips. Standing with weight on one instead of both is a bad habit I have to break. It's just as tender. And the leg…"

It took twenty minutes but she finally gave a sweet sigh and fell asleep. His hands were cramping and he needed to get the oil off his hands but when he got up from the bed she mumbled, "No, don't leave. Please. Just lay here with me. A nap will do us both a lot of good."

He lay down beside her and pressed a kiss into her shoulder, put an arm around her and was asleep within seconds.

She woke first. Once again they'd wrapped themselves around each other and once again his thigh was between hers and she'd thrown her injured leg over his. She'd reached up under his t-shirt in her sleep and her hand rested on his stomach. She ran her fingertips through his chest hair and then followed the thinning hair down across his stomach where it disappeared into the waistband of his boxers.

It tickled and he woke up. "Ms. Walker, please remove your hand from my shorts. You know the deal. When you can run a mile and not before."

She removed her hand and sighed.

"Sarah, you're killing me here. Please. I want to do wild and crazy things with you but not until you're healthy. Please, don't make me sleep in the spare room. I won't do anything that might hurt you."

She crawled up him until they were face to face. "Chuck, can't you at least kiss me?" She knew once she got him started…she could keep things rolling until he caved. She wanted him in the worst kind of way. She wouldn't mind the pain; it would serve as a distraction. She didn't want him to think she was a slut or something but being with him and not being _with _him was pure torture.

He had the strangest look on his face but then he smiled and she knew it was going to be okay.

He kissed her, running his hand down her back and across her ass and finally down the back of her thigh raising it up and onto his. He broke the kiss to her whimper and ran his open mouth across her jaw and down her neck, nibbling and sucking until he reached the hollow of her throat. "I love you, Sarah Walker, now be quiet and accept this small token of my love."

Chuck had a goal, one goal, for the evening. It would be his name that she moaned, his name that she shouted out, and his name that she murmured in her sleep.

He licked her right nipple and then blew on it, feeling it harden under his touch and repeated it on the left. She whimpered when he abandoned her nipple after sucking it gently and then stringing open-mouthed kisses across her soft skin, dipping his tongue into her navel and lightly drawing circles on her ass with his fingertips.

He slipped between her thighs and as she drew in a hissing breath he ran kisses down the inside of her thigh, tasting the soft flesh, nipping at it lightly with his teeth and then finally encircling her mons with suckling kisses. Her scent changed abruptly and he knew he had her.

He parted her folds to more whimpering and sucked the swelling lips with kisses ignoring her clit and savoring her sweetness. Her hips bucked upwards and she moaned as he parted her lips with his tongue and she ran the fingers of both hands across his head subtly guiding him to her need but he had his own agenda.

Chuck ran his tongue up and down between the lips, enjoying the taste and sound of making oral love to Sarah. He slipped two fingers between her lips and she gasped and then bucked upwards again and moaned as he drew the pads of the fingers against her inner wall stimulating the mystical g-spot and stroking it with a 'come here' gesture of his fingers. As she came closer and closer to orgasm with each caress he whispered, 'who am I, Sarah?' and smiled when she whispered back 'Chuck'.

He slipped down and took her clit between his lips and sucked hard sending her into orgasm and she almost screamed his name, almost but not quite…

She would be much too sensitive to continue for a while so he drew her into and embrace and whispered, 'I am your now, your tomorrow, your future, I am you partner in all things, Sarah, never forget that.'

She kissed him deeply, tasting herself and wondering how she was ever going to survive a full-blown Bartowski seduction if that was a 'token'. She wouldn't have been able to move if her life depended on it. She felt him slip out of bed and run water in the bath room and then she was startled when he returned, smelling of mouthwash, and gently wiped her with a warm wet cloth and patted her dry with a towel.

"Chuck, what about you?"

"So my shower won't use much hot water. No problem. I meant it, Sarah. Not until you're well."

* * *

They had Chinese food that they drove in to pick up from the restaurant. It was late but neither Sarah nor Chuck were paying attention to the hour, just each other.

"Chuck, do you believe in fate? Do you believe that all of this," she gestured around at their home, "that all of this was preordained? That we were destined to find each other and fall in love?"

He just looked at her and smiled and offered her some more green tea.

"I'm serious, sweetheart."

"Fine. Do I believe in destiny, fate, or that the smallest details of our lives are planned in advance? No. Do I believe that I would have found you somewhere in this or any other life? Yes. Without a doubt. If you want to call that destiny or fate, fine. I call it soul mates. Two halves of one soul, torn apart and cast out to find their way back to each other. Why? I don't have a clue."

He chuckled. "I can't believe my kickass ninja spygirl is a closet philosopher. How cool is that?"


	31. Confrontations Guilt and Dirt Naps

TheGame28

_**I'm bored and he's fishing - again! I'm tired of disertating and so I'm editing another chapter. Enjoy. No sex, guys, sorry. Did you read the A/Ns on the last chapter? I wondered why he brings a tablet to bed when I stay over. haha! Editor joke. Nic.**_**The next evening**.

* * *

Chuck was showering and Sarah had an idea she wanted to try out in the current game scenario she was playing.

She knew that Carina was on scenario 4 while she was still poking along on scenario 3. The difference was that while Carina had beaten Sarah on scenario 1, Sarah had taken her time and thoroughly examined the opening scenes, found the 'clues' and scored twice the points including maxing out the mission and scoring quite well in the relationship module in scenario 2.

Scenario 3 was the first true 'Gigi & Herb without the cover' scene. It involved complex issues such as trust, perspective and the introduction of an outsider, Gigi's old partner Lance, who suddenly appeared on the scene.

It came immediately before Sarah left the team and went to Europe. In the game, Gigi takes an undercover assignment in France with Lance. It's the complexity of the player's responses that the AI handles and it's never the same twice.

With Sarah it was the bracelet. With Gigi and Herb it was a necklace. For just a moment she'd forgotten that her fiancé had an almost photographic memory. Apparently it extended into hearing also.

Gigi summoned Herb to her hotel suite and told him she was leaving with Lance on a deep cover assignment. She handed him the necklace.

She hated hearing her almost-voice say 'It was a wonderful addition to the cover and I appreciated your thoughts behind it but Herb…there was never anything on my part. No feelings, no emotions. I'm sorry but I can't keep it. It's something you should give to the woman you want to marry'.

Sarah was playing Gigi, an option she elected at the beginning of the scenario. She'd tried playing Herb but it was just too damned upsetting. She saw the situation through Chuck's eyes as Herb confronted the Director of the CIA and demanded to be paid and to be trained as an agent.

Sarah almost quit the game at that point. It was just too real, too personal and too damning. She saved her progress and went upstairs in search of comfort and to try to make amends for her actions so long ago.

Chuck was sitting up in bed reading some reports and Sarah got into bed beside him and snuggled up against him, pulling his arm around her and putting her head on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry I was so cold and unfeeling in Burbank when I gave you back the bracelet, honey. I felt anything but. After you left I cried so hard that I almost missed my flight to DC. I was so upset leaving you and I had to bury my feelings, Chuck, but your last words were my undoing. Do you remember what you said to me?"

"Yeah, I do. But that was long ago and I got over it, Sarah. I learned a painful lesson. I worked so hard at putting what I'd learned that night into practice. Show emotions but don't feel them. It was a hard lesson but I finally did it."

"But Chuck, you aren't like that. When I saw you in Bucharest you were tired and heartbroken and I could see the emotions you felt. Maybe you had the others fooled but I could see the pain and heartache and yet you were so kind to me."

"Mira had been dead a month. I think most of the shock had worn off. I was running on automatic. I really don't want to think or talk about Bucharest. Too many ghosts. Too much pain and guilt."

"Guilt? My God, guilt about what? You were a hero! You found the nukes. I saw what it cost you. Why in the world would you feel guilty?"

He told her about the psychiatrist's test, the photographs that tipped him to Graham's double agent status and his cockiness and pride. It was the pride that caused her injuries, his unwillingness to let the information slide. He killed all those people with his pride.

"Sarah, please, I don't want to talk about it. It's done and I've come to terms with it. I've moved on and learned to put it deep down inside where it won't … Please, I just want to forget about it."

"But Chuck…"

"Please, Sarah. I'm tired. Good night. I love you." He turned out the light, kissed her and then spooned against her back, his face in her hair, taking comfort in her scent.

But Sarah Walker would not forget about it. Guilt was a powerful motivator. She herself had used it to turn or control marks in the past. Was his motivation for all this, finding the researchers, the treatment, the surgery, the ring, was it guilt for what he thought he was responsible for?

'_Um, Chuck, I think we have a problem.'_

'_Please, shadow, not tonight. Tomorrow's going to be very stressful for me. I know my Sarah. She's already turning everything I said inside out and backwards looking for ulterior motives. Me and my damned big mouth.'_

'_Well, a lot of what you did __was__ motivated by guilt. You know it. Well, I know it. I'm the part of you that looks at this stuff and says, uh oh, FUBAR!'_

'_Not where she's concerned, damn it. I love her. I wanted her to live her life pain-free, with or without me. Sure I felt responsible for her situation, but I still loved her more than anything, even Mira, you know that.'_

'_Sure, but you didn't say that. You said…' _

'_Why didn't you take over? You let me ramble myself into a position where I can't win, I can only lose.'_

'_I only took over to summon help for you. Paddy's not going to be able to help you here. We are so screwed. Unless she wins the damned game, Chuck, and learns your secret.'_

* * *

When he wakes up, her side of the bed is empty and cold.

She isn't in the bathroom. He checks the spare room and she isn't sleeping in there. He walks downstairs and finds her playing his damned game. He makes coffee and sits and waits for it to finish brewing and for Sarah to start asking the inevitable questions his run-away mouth has created. Sometimes being utterly truthful with someone is foolish. Sometimes it is costly. Last night had been foolish and might end up being costly as well.

He fixes her a cup of coffee and puts it on the table beside her but she just keeps playing his game. He walks out the French doors to the deck area and stands in the cool Alabama morning. It's almost 6am and the sun is just beginning to redden the sky in the east. He looks back into the kitchen and watches as she plays her game.

He finishes his coffee and walks back into the kitchen, rinses out the cup and puts it in the dishwasher and heads upstairs to change. He'll run off his frustrations and worries. He and Mira used to run every morning on the beach. Perhaps he and Sarah can do the same here on these winding lanes of the Community. He'll have to wait and see if there is going to be a Chuck and Sarah before making the suggestion.

He runs up past the guard shack and waves to the guard on duty chuckling when he sees that the man is asleep and then turns right and heads out toward the highway. He doesn't know that he's triggered a protocol violation alert that ends all the way up in DC. If he'd known he'd have laughed and turned back toward the cul-de-sac but he doesn't know so he doesn't turn around.

It has been a while since he's run, a while since he's done anything this physical and the 7% grade on some of the hills causes his thighs to burn but he smiles, feeling very alive, enjoying the almost-spring sun now fully above the horizon.

Seeing the main gate ahead he slows his pace, waves to the two startled guards who have pointed their weapons at him and turns and retraces his steps.

His mind is on getting Sarah out of her current mindset and his iPod masks the sound of the SUV roaring past him and then turning in the lane to block his path. Two men in civilian clothes hop out of the doors and point weapons at him and gesture for him to get in.

Runner becomes agent becomes deadly weapon as his appears from the waistband of his sweats behind his back and levels into firing position. Sarah Maclachlan's sweet 'Fallen' drowns out the words 'We are authorized to use deadly force to detain you' as the training both sides received kicks in.

* * *

'_Chuck, Chuck, hang on man. Helps on its way. He's calling it in. They think you're a runner from the restricted WitSec or an outsider.'_

'_Hurts, shadow man, can't breathe. I'm afraid…'_

'_I know, buddy, I know. I am too and I can't feel your pain, just your fear. Chuck, Chuck! Don't go, Chuck, please, just hang in there, stay with me…_

'_If you remember…remind Casey…Odessa.'_

The system works because of its inherent bureaucracy. Fairhope informs Mobile which in turn notifies FT Meade that a physical security violation has occurred resulting in the use of deadly force. The intruder is in custody and currently in surgery. No ID, only a weapon, an iPod and personal clothing items were found. Fingerprint ID pending. Advise disposition.

* * *

**Evangeline Oaks Gated Community  
****Fairhope, AL  
****Carmichael Residence 7:45am**

The bolts snick open on the front door and Sarah has her pistol in-hand and pointed at the door. Casey walks in. "Where's Chuck, Sarah? Where is he?"

"He went for a run around 6am, why?" He had the same look on his face he had in the Ops Center in Bucharest when Chuck had his strokes.

"Shit. It's him. Go tell Carina it's him and I'll be with you in a second. Come on, Walker, move!" Casey pulls out his cell phone and speed dials a number as he walks toward his idling SUV. "Yes, ma'am, it's him. He went for a run. No, we weren't briefed on any special restrictions or protocols. We were driven here and dumped out at our residences. Ma'am, I have to get Walker to the medical facility. I'll call back when I know something."

* * *

**NSA Medical Facility  
Evangeline Oaks Gated Community  
Fairhope, AL 8:55am**

"The unsub is in surgery. We have not been able to determine his identity. His prints are not in the system. We've sent a photo to NSA-FT Meade for analysis."

Casey growls and the nurse looks at him warily.

"Your 'unsub' is an NSA agent living in a restricted cul-de-sac. Apparently we were never briefed in on any special protocols. We've been in residence since late Friday evening. Now, what is the status of Agent Carmichael?"

"He's in surgery. He resisted being detained and was shot after ignoring warnings of authorization to use deadly force plus he pulled a weapon on the two plain clothes security guards."

"He's a damned agent as well as a high-value asset. Of course he resisted. There are forces out there that would kill their mothers to get their hands on him. Weren't your people briefed as to _our_ policies? My God, who's running this friggin' circus?"

Casey brushes past the nurse to intercept a doctor wearing bloody scrubs. Casey swallows bile as he realizes the blood is his partner's and that the doctor's scrub sleeves are stained up past the elbows.

"Doctor, Colonel Casey, NSA. What is the status of my partner, Agent Carmichael?"

The doctor looked at Casey and frowned. 'Agent?' 'Colonel?'

"He's being prepped for air evac to Mobile Baptist Hospital. His condition is grave. GSW to both lungs. Significant blood loss. Prognosis is…" He looks at the NSA Colonel and sees the distress in his eyes and finishes his sentence with a lie.

"Prognosis is hopeful. He's on a ventilator. He cannot breath on his own. Colonel Casey, what is Epsilon Pi data dump? It's the only thing he said according to the medics who brought him in and they weren't sure exactly if that's what he said. He was going into shock and…"

"Need to know, Doctor, need to know. Thank you for your time. We're his security detail now and we'll need to accompany him to the hospital and stay with him. Please alert the hospital to expect us."

He speed dials Beckman. "General, two security guards in plain clothes tried to take Chuck into custody and of course he resisted thinking they were after…well, you know. Both lungs are compromised and he's being air evaced to Mobile Baptist Hospital. We will accompany him as well as maintain 24-hour security. General, it looks like he thought he'd been taken. He executed the Odessa Option."

"Shit. Keep me advised. I want hourly updates. This whole thing…damn it, no one briefed you in, Gate security was not advised, he went for a run. How many other things can possibly go wrong? What's his prognosis, Colonel Casey?"

"The doctor said 'hopeful' but he was lying. He didn't want to tell me that recovery was doubtful. I have to go, General. I will comply with your instructions."

Casey makes his way to the makeshift waiting area and tells the two women what the surgeon told him. "We have to get to Mobile Baptist Hospital and meet his chopper. I don't want him alone for one second. One of us will be there at all times. I don't want him to wake up alone among strangers."

"Casey, I…" Carina starts to say something but Casey cuts her off and looks at Walker. "Sarah, go with him. Let him know you'll be with him all the way. Ride on the chopper with him. Keep physical contact and talk to him, Sarah. He needs to know who he is and where he is and what's happening to him. Go! Tell the surgeon I said you're on the bird."

Carina hugs Sarah and pushes her down the hallway then turns to Casey. "OK, enough bull shit. What's really going on?"

"Both lungs compromised. He's on a ventilator. He might make it but there's a huge complication the doctors can't know about. He dumped the intersect. He thought he'd been captured. The security guards were wearing street clothes. He resisted and they shot him down. Let's get suited up and moving. The hospital's 40 minutes away."

* * *

**ICU – Trauma Center  
Mobile Baptist Hospital  
Mobile, AL**

Sarah sits in the ICU unit holding his hand. It's cool, clammy and there is no response to her squeezes. She talks non-stop about anything and everything letting him know she's there and not leaving him for any reason.

"Chuck, I know you can hear me, baby. You're going to be fine. Don't be afraid. I'm with you and I'm not leaving. I know you think I doubt your feelings but I don't. I understand everything, Chuck. Please, squeeze my hand, baby, let me know you're there? Please?"

She rubs his hand and fingers trying to bring warmth back into them and also letting him know he's not alone.

She finally puts her forehead on his hand and cries.

'_Chuck? Chuck? Wake up. Sarah's here, boss man. She's here. Don't ignore her. She needs to know you're still you. Chuck? Please?'_

Casey and Carina meet with the hospital security chief and detail what steps are required of the security detail with regard to a wounded agent's safety. The security chief has concerns that if another attempt is made, his other patients' security and safety may be compromised.

"Won't happen. He got them both and no one knows where he went. The hospital records will not even show his admission. If necessary, we will report his 'death' through confidential sources. It's been done before. Just follow my instructions to the letter."

In the elevator Carina asks the question John Casey can't answer - yet. "How did this happen, John? We're supposedly in a totally secure environment. Chuck didn't do anything wrong. He went for a damned run. None of us knew about any restrictions."

"I don't know, C.C. I think someone dropped the ball. Christ, it's L.A. all over again. I'm going to want an investigation into every staff member at Evangeline Oaks. God help the agent who screwed up. I have to update the General. Stay with Sarah. I think something happened before the run. She's looking guilty. Maybe they had a fight, I don't know. She needs a friend right now. Listen to what she says. Don't judge her."

Casey leaves to use his cell phone and Carina walks down through the automatic doors and looks for her friend.

* * *

Three days have passed without any change in Chuck's condition. A hospital cot has been brought into the room to allow Sarah to rest and sleep without leaving him. Casey and Carina make the twice-daily trip back to Evangeline Oaks to check on the progress of the castle unit and to update the General on Chuck's condition.

"Is it fair to say that Agent Carmichael is on life support and incapable of sustaining his life unaided?"

"I'm not a doctor, General. I think it's too soon to consider disconnecting his support, especially since there's significant brain activity. He's not brain dead by any legal or medical definition. He's in a deep coma. He could come out of it today or…"

"Or never. This is a difficult decision to make, Colonel Casey, and it's yours to make since you hold his medical power of attorney. Seven days. If nothing's changed for the better, execute his living will, Colonel."

The General's image is replaced by the floating NSA screensaver logo.

"Living will? Chuck has a living will?" Carina was both surprised and curious.

"Yeah. He gave me his medical power of attorney and drafted his will right before…well, you remember. It's still valid and technically he's met the conditions outlined to discontinue life support. I just don't want to jump the gun. He's survived worse. And there is brain activity."

"Yeah, but is it his or…it's?"

'_Yo, Chuck. They're talking about disconnecting us. You have to come out of the box, man. I don't know if I'll be able to fool them. Paddy's too sharp to fall for it twice. And Sarah, man, you can't do this to her. She's rarely out of physical contact with us. And she cries, man, she cries like all the time.'_

_Nothing. No response._

'_Mira didn't go out like this. She fought tooth and nail to live. She didn't crawl into a hole and give up. She wouldn't leave you. She went but only because there was nothing left of 'Mira', just a husk. You, you quit already and you're capable of living, of being as good or better than before and yet you hide in that damned box day after day. You didn't deserve Mira and you don't deserve Sarah.'_

'_Chuck? You there?'_

* * *

Beckman's deadline has come and gone and Casey refuses to give up on his friend. Physically, he's recovering much faster than anticipated but mentally there has been no change. Under the terms of his living will, after seven consecutive days, life support is to be removed and no 'heroic efforts' are to be expended to resuscitate him if he flat-lines.

Casey and the doctors come into Chuck's room. Carina is holding one of Sarah's hands while she hold's Chuck's. She is trembling and fighting to keep from crying. Casey reads Chuck's living will in accordance with state law and the doctors begin detaching equipment, monitors, and finally the vent. The tubes and drains had been removed the previous day since his condition had improved but he still is breathing via the ventilator.

Casey nods to the doctor who flips a switch and for the first time in more than a week the sound of the vent is absent and the room is deathly still.

'_Coward! Mira fought to live. Sarah fought to live. Why? Because of you. And that slays me, man. You don't care enough to even fucking try to breathe. Go ahead. Die. Coward. Sarah will find someone who appreciates her courage and her dedication. You're leaving her alone thinking you did it all because you feel guilty. Is that what you want her to think? That you did all you did to make your conscience lighter? I'm done with you. I'll delete myself and…'_

His first breath is shallow and strained, the second is deeper and third is noticed by everyone in the room. His eyes flutter and Sarah grabs his hand in a death grip and leans over and whispers something in his ear.

A slow smile creeps across his face and he squeezes her hand in response. It is weak but she smiles her zillion-candlelight smile that lights up the room. Carina stifles a sob and Casey swallows convulsively as Chuck opens his eyes for the first time in a week and then closes them against the brightness.

A doctor snaps at a nurse, "Turn down the lights. And get the rest of the EEG leads off him. He's back."


	32. Home Harm Heartache History

TheGame29

**_T/N: He woke me at 4am and asked me if I wanted to go fishing! Fishing? The man is nuts. So, I edited another one. I see he's changed tenses. Threw me. Don't know why he did. He's quiet and more focused on the moment. Fishing? Idiocy. Nic_**

* * *

**Carmichael Residence  
****Evangeline Oaks Gated Community  
****Fairhope, AL 10:30am**

Sarah helps Chuck out of the SUV and up the short walkway to their home. It was truly a home now that he is out of the hospital. No more trips to the hospital. The NSA facility in the community would be responsible for the remainder of his patient 'aftercare'. She doesn't care. She'll provide all the TLC he'll need or could possibly want.

"Honey, General Beckman actually apologized to us for the mess up when we logged in to the Community. Somehow the paperwork got side-tracked and the security teams weren't made aware of us. Our vehicles are all tagged with NSA transponders and they never had cause to check us through the ID process after the first time. She said to tell you 'Sorry, Bartowski' and actually smiled."

"That's because Bartowski's dead. It also means it's a lip-service apology. If she meant it she'd have said 'Carmichael'. Doesn't really matter, babe. What's done is done."

"You're supposed to have an update in the Castle when you feel up to it. Please don't push yourself. It's not all that important since we're off the roster for a month. You have a rigorous PT schedule and there's testing and recertification once you've completed the schedule. Loads of fun for all."

"Sarah, could we just sit out on the deck for a few minutes. There's something I want to talk to you about. It's about what happened before I went on the run. Really, it's important to me so please humor me. I've been in bed for two weeks and I'd like to stay sitting or standing for a while."

"Sure. The doctor said alcohol is off your menu as long as you're taking those pills but I can make a pot of coffee."

"Fine, that's great. I'll just sit out here in the sun and catch the rays. This summer we're definitely hitting the beaches. I can't wait to see you in a bikini but you'll have to wait until I'm healthy again."

"Why? All you have to do is soak up the sun. Am I missing something?"

"I need to be able to fight off all the guys that you'll attract. Right now I couldn't fight off a fly. I have got to get back on my feet so we can…"

He's talking to himself. She'd walked away after his comment about attracting guys. She is very selfconscious of her scars.

* * *

The warm sun and the fragrances of honeysuckle just blooming are a perfect environment for him at this moment. It's an incredible pleasure to inhale a breath of air not scented with disinfectant. His hospital stay could not have come at a worst time. They'd had their first real 'argument' the night before the shooting even if harsh words were not exchanged. In the hospital Sarah had refused to have any discussion about it. He'd decided to wait until he was released.

She carries a coffee service and puts it on the café table and pours his cup for him and adds sugar. She's grinning like an idiot.

"What's with the grin, Sarah? You have a secret you'd like to share with the rest of us?"

"Nope. It'll keep. Now, every morning we're walking from here to the checkpoint and back at least twice. We'll work on more rotations as you feel stronger. Every afternoon you're going to walk the same route and I'll be with you every step of the way. It's good exercise for me, too."

"Fine. But I want to clear up some things we sort of touched on the night before…"

"NO! I understand how you felt. I do, I really do. I love you. You love me. Soul mates. That's it. No further discussion. Doesn't matter how we got back together. What's important is what we have, sweetheart, and that's the end of it."

"But…"

"I said no further discussion, Charles, and I meant it."

He slumps down on the love seat and puts his head in his hands so she can't see his face. She's instantly by his side, an arm around his shoulders, hugging him to her.

"Hey, guilt is a powerful motivator. I've used it to control marks, to get my way, to get someone to do what I want but I've never believed you have any reason to feel guilty about what happened to me. What happened to me is that I fell in love with a wonderful guy and left him behind for the sake of my career. When I realized who he was to me, it was too late. He'd moved on without knowing how I felt about him, that I loved him more than my job or even myself. I threw myself into the task force and was very miserable. I couldn't forget you for one second, not even in the arms of another man."

He starts to interrupt but she presses her fingers to his lips and whispers 'Shhh'.

"I never told you. I never gave you any indication. I never hinted around about how I felt. You moved on as you should have. You found Miranda and you fell in love with her and you would have been very happy with her but fate intervened and she was taken from you. Then fate brought us back together and I was hateful, detached, jealous and spiteful. I'm so sorry for that."

"When was that? I don't remember you being anything but sad in Bucharest."

"Ask Casey or Carina. Carina actually hit me that night in the hotel bar. I think she was more than a little in love with you back then but you'd 'pointed her at Casey' like you said. And then I saw you in the Ops Center and you were so damned nice to me, Chuck, and it made me feel guilty and ashamed of how I'd treated you and how badly I'd behaved with your partners. When you collapsed I held you in my arms and cried for us but you never knew that. No one told you. I was still madly in love and so bitter that you'd moved on with someone else even though she was dead."

"And then you started your courtship. That's what I call it in my mind. The courtship of Chuck and Sarah. You came to see me, left me with the bracelet and that love letter and I slept through it. I was thrilled and so motivated to get back on my feet and I was crushed when the surgery failed and I was still in constant pain. I knew we could never be together. I didn't want to saddle you with a cripple you'd love out of guilt. So I sent back the bracelet and moved into the rehab apartments."

"What love letter? I never wrote you a love letter. I've…"

"When you're ready." It was the most beautiful love letter to me in the world."

"But you wouldn't give up on me. I treated you like dirt, making you stand in the freezing rain while I lied to you, deceived you, and told you that incredible lie hoping you'd leave for good. But I'd misjudged you, your determination and your love. You sold yourself to Diane Beckman in exchange for my medical records and you went on your quest."

"Sarah, not really. I …"

"Please, baby, don't interrupt. I'm almost through with my confession.'

"Fine. I'll drink my coffee and shut up." She smiles and kisses his cheek and then continues.

"You got Ellie and Devon to get opinions from the best in the world. I know because I've talked to Ellie and we've exchanged emails. She understands and approves of us, you and me, as a couple. She said it was 'complicated' but she finally understood."

"But…"

"Shhh. Ellie and Devon gave you no hope but did suggest a new field of inquiry and there you found the two miracle workers, Dr. Kogyo and Dr. White. You brought them together and the rest you know."

"Finished?"

"Nope. I want to get married, Chuck. I want us to be husband and wife. Once you're healthy, and I'm way ahead of you on that, I want a wedding with our friends and family, nothing big, just official."

"That was my intention and ultimate goal all along, baby. The bracelet, the ring, it was all to finally have us joined together. I know marriage is viewed as passé by some but not by me. It's the ultimate purpose of this crazy courtship of ours."

"Chuck, Casey's having a cook-out to celebrate your return tonight. You'll need to take a nap later this afternoon so you won't tire too quickly. And take your pain meds. Don't play hero. You don't need to."

"Sarah, I'm really tired all of a sudden. Mind if I lie down for a bit? I don't know why I'm so tired anymore. If this is what old age is like, I'd prefer to die while I still…"

The slap across the face pushed him over against the side of the loveseat and he gasped with pain. '_Right on the stitches. Damn_.'

He looks at Sarah who is covering her mouth with her hands as if in prayer. There are tears in her eyes.

"Don't ever, _ever_, say anything like that again, Charles Bartowski. That's a horrible thing to say. You almost died. You could have been brain dead. Casey unplugged you and you dumped the intersect – again. How many lives do you think you have? How many times do I have to say goodbye to you before it will be the final time?"

"I'm sorry, Sarah. It was just a figure of speech. Really. I wasn't thinking and I'm sorry." He tries to put his arm around her but she sits up away from him. What he said was thoughtless and he never thought what it might mean to her. Dumb ass.

She gets up, back stiff as a cadet's and marches into the kitchen. He sighs, tries to get up but can't, his strength suddenly gone. He's angry with himself, frustrated with his physical shortcomings and mostly pissed for not being more in tune with Sarah's mood. He's put her through an awful lot the past 2 weeks.

* * *

He doesn't know how long he's been sitting because he's been in and out of a light sleep. He jerks awake when someone opens the French doors off the kitchen and walks over and sits down. Casey. No one else moves like he does.

"Sarah's over at our place. Carina's calmed her down. I know you didn't mean what you said. I know it was a figure of speech but Chuck, she almost lost you and you have to tread lightly around her for a bit, maybe forever. So, no more dumb ass remarks about dying, OK?"

Chuck nods his head and tries to get up out of the damned love seat but he's sunk down into the pillows and he's stuck. He feels like a total waste and he's been bleeding a nice little pool on Sarah's cushions.

"Um, Casey, I need some help. Please pull me upright. I need to clean up this mess before Sarah sees it. It was a 'heat of the moment' thing, her slap, but it rocked me pretty good and I hit my stitches on the arm of the loveseat and it's been trickling ever since. Please, colonel, help out the cripple?" He smiles ruefully and gestures toward his right side and Casey sees the puddle of blood and the bloodstain on his shirt and he pulls Chuck up and stands him on his feet.

"You gonna be all right, Bartowski, while I get something to clean that up with? Don't go all girly on me and pass out. You want to sit at the café table and relax?" He starts to lead Chuck over to it but he feels the resistance and looks at him quizzically. "What is it now, Chuck?"

"Clean it up, please. I'm going upstairs and survey the damage and change shirts. I'll soak it in cold water and the stain won't set. No sense upsetting her more, is there? Thanks, Casey. Give me while to soak the shirt and change the dressing and then send my girl home, please? Forty-five minutes should be more than enough time."

Casey nods seeing the 'wisdom' in not further upsetting Walker. She's been wound tight since the shooting.

"Chuck, those two security guards who shot you…they were just doing their jobs, y'know? It wasn't their fault. They were following protocol."

"Yeah, I know. So?"

"You shot both of them in the heart, Chuck. Luckily they were wearing Kevlar vests but still, you went for kill shots. They're still around and I didn't want you freaking out if you run into them. They both felt like shit after they learned who they'd shot. So, don't give them any grief." _Chuck never would have gone for kill shots in the old days. The times they are a-changing._

He nods and walks slowly towards the stairs knowing that Casey is watching every step he takes, waiting and watching until he makes it.

Chuck unbuttons his shirt and takes it off. It takes almost a minute to accomplish the simple task but his arms don't seem to work right and he almost falls when he pulls the t-shirt over his head. He grimaces when he sees the blood-soaked dressing and pulls it off and examines his sutures where the chest tubes and drains were inserted. Almost healed until he slammed against them and the seat arm. '_Smooth move, Chuck'_, he thinks.

Sarah had already put his 'supplies' on the vanity and so he digs through until he finds the self-adhering surgical dressing and presses it in place. The he finds a washcloth and washes away the blood and pats it dry with a towel. He fills the basin with cold water and puts the washcloth, shirt and t-shirt in to soak and then finds his way to the bed. He toes off his shoes and sits down on the edge of the bed and is asleep in seconds.

Casey has cleaned up the blood as best he can and then throws a pillow over the wet stain hoping it will dry. He checks on Chuck, not surprised at all that he's asleep and then wrings out the soaking clothes and drains the sink. _'No sense freaking Walker out any more than she already is. Hitting Chuck was not cool at all' _he thinks.

He takes the wet clothing and walks to his house and throws the evidence into the washing machine and then joins the two women in the kitchen.

"Is he alright, Casey? I hit him pretty hard. He made me so damned mad and I lost my temper and hit him. What kind of person am I? It was just a figure of speech." She was tearing up again and Carina pushes another tissue into her hands. From the looks of things, she'd been crying off and on the whole time he'd been over at their place.

"Yeah, he's fine. He's asleep. I watched him walk up the stairs and then waited a few minutes to give him privacy and then I checked on him. He's fine, Sarah, just tired. Go on home. Let him know you're there. I think he's more upset about things than you are."

Chuck wakes up from the recurring dream of being shot. This time the dream is different. This time the shooters are Mira and Sarah and they congratulate each other as they watch Chuck bleed out on the road. They laugh as he tries to crawl away from them and then he wakes up.

'_That was different. You feel like talking?'_

'_No, shadow, I don't feel like talking. Or thinking. I talk too much and I think myself into a depression. I think…I want to just go back to sleep and let it all be a damned bad dream but I can't and it's not just a bad dream.'_

'_Y'know, Chuck, for someone who died and came back and then beat the odds and actually woke up from a coma, you seem awfully depressed. You should be overjoyed, on top of the world.'_

'_Sarah and I had a disagreement.'_

'_Chuck, give her time. She's been through a lot. I had to listen to her entire life story and then that disgusting 'courtship of Chuck & Sarah'. Sounds like the script for a damned chick flick.'_

'_I think it's pretty damned wonderful, myself, and Sarah seems to be OK with it. Yeah, more than OK. I wish I could just let it all go and just be in the moment but I can't.'_

'_You can if you try. The worst you can do is fail. Big deal. What is it Master Yoda told Luke?'_

'_I'm out of here, shadow. Keep a light on for me. And thanks for the ass kicking.'_

She knows he's awake because the panicky breathing when he was dreaming has leveled out and is now almost normal. She is as close to him as she can get without touching him. She saw the bloody dressing when she went into the bathroom to change clothes and now she is watching as the blood slowly seeps through the clean dressing. She decides that if the next dressing she puts on soaks through, they're going back to the hospital or the NAS medical unit here.

"I can always tell when you're staring at me, Sarah. It freaks me out to know you stare at me when I sleep. Haven't you seen me sleep long enough? I mean, two weeks at the hospital all the time, never leaving?" No response, just a ragged sigh.

He levers himself up onto his elbows and swings his legs out of the bed and sits up. Taking a deep breath he stands and walks into the master bath and turns on the shower and finds the plastic patches that cover his dressings and applies them and then strips off his boxers and steps into the shower. A wave of dizziness washes over him and he starts to sway when two soft but strong hands grab his upper arms to steady him.

"I've got you, baby. You won't fall. I won't let anything happen to you. Lean back against me and I'll hold you. Maybe a bath would be better, huh? Less chance of falling when you're already sitting in the tub. C'mon, I'll be with you every step of the way."

He's in the tub and Sarah is with him, washing him and fussing over him. He lies back with his eyes closed just enjoying the hot water relaxing his tense muscles and her gentle ministrations. He's as close to heaven as he can get without dying. A stray thought surges up through the pleasure-induced fog.

"Sarah, what's the secret you were grinning about when we first got home?"

"It'll keep, Chuck. Sit up a minute, baby, and let me slip in behind you. Now, lie back against me and let me soak up the feel of you. I missed this, Chuck. I missed being able to see you and touch you and know you're alive.

She starts washing his shoulders and he lets his head loll back against her shoulder. "Sarah, should you be putting this stress on your hip, sweetie?"

"No problem. I did a lot of PT at the hospital when they would bathe you and change out the sheets and do the poking and prodding and especially when they suctioned out your lungs. I couldn't sit there and watch that. My hip is in great shape, the muscles are reforming naturally and there's no evidence of rejection or of any cracks or malformations along the replacement site. I got a clean bill of health."

"Great. Wonderful. I'm so happy for you. No pain and no problems." His grin is genuine and spontaneous.

"And I run a mile every morning and another every evening. And you know what that means, my darling man…" She chuckles lasciviously and then licks his ear. "And I have 2 cans of Hershey's in the refrigerator…mmm."

His nervous swallowing is her undoing. She starts to giggle uncontrollably. She loves this man more than anything and knowing she can make him…uncomfortable and shy about sex is just so much fun.

"Chuck, I've only got one more level until I finish the game and learn your secret. According to the gamers' mag you get online, no one has gotten that far yet with both phases of the game. I've got 2,310 points and Carina's only got 1650 or so. Giving us both game copies and setting us up on the bet was just…evil." She chuckles to take any sting out of her words.

"I'll bet she's pissed about that. I don't want to go over to the Casey's if it means leaving this wonderful tub and my own personal bath maiden. You're spoiling me, Sarah."

"It's my pleasure. I intend to spoil the crap out of you for the rest of our lives, Chuck. I love you and I can't think of anything else I'd rather do."

"I can think of a lot of things, my love, but I'm just not physically capable at the moment. Give me some time to rebuild my stamina. God knows if your responses the other night are any indicator of … well, you get the idea."

"You know, Chuck, I can do things to you that don't require you to do much more than scream out my name…and I do so want to repay you for your 'token' of the other night. No one's ever…no one else could ever make me feel the way you did. It was so incredible…" Sarah grins and runs a soapy hand up his length, shivering in anticipation of doing more.

"Enough, woman. You're driving me nuts here. Please…Sarah."

"Fine. I'll stop. But you just wait, Chuck Ba – Carmichael. You'll lose your voice before I'm done with you, and that's not an idle boast. Now, let's get you out of the tub and I want to see the dressing where you bumped against the loveseat arm. I saw the bloody dressing in the waste can, Chuck. I'm so sorry for hitting you…"

They walk slowly over to the Casey's and Carina greets him with a careful hug and a lewdly suggestive kiss and then smiles at his embarrassment.

"Just remember, Sarah, he's the one that got away and I've always enjoyed taking things away from you and playing with them. I always return them, though. Dazed and confused but I always return them."

"Touch him again, Carina, and John will be single." She isn't kidding and Carina knows she's gone too far.

"Just kidding, Sarah. He told me 'No' in Burbank. I doubt he's changed his mind just because I live right across the street."

**A/N: I think one more chapter, maybe, and epilogue, yeah, an epilogue. If you ever get to Alabama swing by Fairhope, it's a cool place. Take a slice of New England and add the working class of Cleveland and dump in some sailing nuts who are also writers and you have Fairhope.**


	33. Suicide is Painless

TheGame30

T/N: This was a corrupted file and I'm looking for the backup. Norton saved this much. He won't help. Said it's Fate telling me I should have gone fishing. I am rethinking wedding plans. NOT! Nik

* * *

**Casey Residence  
Evangeline Oaks Gated Community  
****Fairhope, AL **

Casey is cooking steaks and Chuck walks out to sit with him on his deck.

"So, Chuck, how's Sarah doing with the damned game? C.C. won't spend less than an hour a night on it. She's obsessed with it. You know she's going to beat Sarah's score, don't you? She's already up to almost 1700 and only has one more scenario to play. How's Sarah doing? Not giving her any 'cheats' are you?"

"She's doing okay. She's reworked some stuff and seems to be rocking right along. I told her the same thing that I told Carina, 'play with your heart'. She's only got one more scenario to play before the final game module. I'm surprised at how far she's gotten. I really thought both of them would have lost interest by now, didn't you?" He paused to catch his breath after a brief coughing spell.

"Yeah except they're both competitive as hell and knowing the other's playing the same game has made C.C. knuckle down and think and scheme. So, how's it feel to be home?"

"Great. I just need to keep my mouth shut around Sarah. As tired as I am, that should be easy. I'll just sleep. I can't possibly get into trouble while I'm asleep." Again, he stops to catch his breath. Between breathlessness and fatigue, he's a wreck.

* * *

Chuck nods off during dinner and no one says anything. Sarah just smiles her secret smile and she wakes him up and they leave. Carina walks over with them and when Chuck walks into the kitchen she grabs Sarah by the arm and walks into the living room.

"Sarah, should he be out of the hospital? He fell asleep at dinner and he looks so pale."

"They wouldn't have released him if he wasn't healthy enough to be out. I'm going to keep an eye on him though. So, how's the game coming along? Have you broken 2000 yet?"

"Almost. I'm on the last scenario. You're toast, Walker. And don't ask Chuck for any hints, either. That's not fair and I want to beat your ass fair and square."

"He won't discuss the game with me at all. He just nods as I talk about my progress. He wants me to beat you fair and square without any help. He says he has total faith in me."

"Yeah, like that's going to happen. Well, I got to go clean up. Put him to bed and leave him alone. He looks like death warmed over. I'll see you tomorrow."

"No, Carina. I'll never leave him alone. He's all I have and want in life and I'm not going to lose him. I need him like I need air. When he sleeps I'll sleep. When he works, I'll work."

"That's not what I meant! Jesus, doesn't anyone around here have wild, hot, monkey sex?"

Sarah laughs and then smiles a secret smile of satisfaction.

Carina immediately recognizes the look and begins badgering Sarah for details.

"What? I know that look. Details, girl friend, details. All the juicy details…"\

"Oh, God, Carina, you have no idea how hot it can be. We're talking multiple orgasms, soul shattering climaxes that left me shaking and breathless and…"

"And what, Sarah? And what?"

"He only used his lips and his tongue…oh, my God, Carina, it was…"

"Yeah? Go on…"

"It was…magic." She says this breathlessly and Carina growls and says she's leaving and she doesn't want to hear any more about it.

"You been reading those trashy romance novels again, haven't you, Sarah?"

"Chuck! You scared me. Not a good thing to do to a horny agent. C'mon, let's get you upstairs, knock out a breathing treatment and then we'll cuddle until you fall asleep."

"And then I suppose you'll slip quietly away and boot up the game, right? Poor Casey. Carina spends all her time on the game and she's way behind you in points. No way she'll discover my secret."

"Yeah, well, I sometimes think she wishes she'd stayed with you. I see her looking at you sometimes and it pisses me off because I know her. She always wants what I have."

"Well, she can't have me. I'm taken. I'd escape and find you."

"That's probably why she has those damned handcuffs."

"'Shaking and breathless', Sarah? Really?"

"Oh, yeah. And when you kept asking me 'what's my name', it was all I could do to remember it. Oh, yeah, my darling man, shaking and breathless."

**Carmichael Residence  
Evangeline Oaks Gated Community  
****Fairhope, AL  
****Two weeks later**

"Come on, Chuck, only another 50 yards and you'll be finished for the day. Pick up the pace. Swing your arms and don't look so disgusted. You're lucky you're alive. Move it, Chuck." Sarah yells at Chuck while she runs circles around him – literally. She's combined her twice-daily miles with his walks and she stays with him, encouraging him, cheering him on while running around him in circles.

Chuck walks up the walkway to his front door and stops and watches as his girlfriend sprints back up the lane to the guard shack. He can barely catch his breath and she's _sprinting_. He hates being weak. He hates the breathing treatments and he's beginning to hate the way she mocks him, running around him in circles, cajoling him, insulting him, her subtle innuendos about how he's weak…

'_Chuck, you're making progress, man. A month ago you were on life support, what do you expect, miracles? You're not 17 anymore, old man.'_

'_Go to the box, shadow. I'm not in the mood to have both you and her berate me. I know I'm weak, pitiful, unworthy. I know all that. You don't have to double-team me. I know, I know.'_

'_Chuck, that's not true. No one's demeaning you. You've made great progress. You were dying a month ago and now look at you…'_

'_Yeah. Look at me now…'_

He looks out the bay window and sees his future run away from him. He hates this, hates it, hates it, hates it. _'Face it, he's pretty useless now.'_ Her words were like knives in his heart.

Sarah runs up to the guard shack and then sprints home, arriving breathless but feeling really good. Chuck sits at the kitchen table staring at his coffee cup as she walks in, hair in a high ponytail, her spandex shorts hugging her figure and her gray t-shirt hugging her form from the sweat.

"Whew, I'm out of breath from that sprint but man, I feel good." She opens the refrigerator and takes out a water bottle and drains it. Chuck pours his coffee out into the sink and walks upstairs.

'_I won't say a thing. She's 'out of breath?' I'm that way all the damned time. Welcome to my world, Agent Walker.'_

Chuck sits on the edge of the bed and toes off his shoes and then covers himself with the blanket and tries to sleep. He's tired all the time, has no energy and is constantly out of breath and now he's developed a cough. The doctors have told him it's normal and will get better with time. It's been a month since the shooting and he can't even walk _down_ the stairs without being out of breath. If this is his life from now on, he wants no part of it. He can't even kiss his fiancé without getting out of breath. She was right when she said _'face it, he's pretty useless now'._

Sarah walks up and sees him in bed and sighs. She takes a quick shower and mulls over the situation.

The doctors all told her that post-operative depression was a possibility and despite her encouragement, he still pouts after his walks and he absolutely sulks when she gives him a breathing treatment. He rarely talks except to answer direct questions and she's worried about him.

She'd talked to Casey and Carina the previous night and they'd both expressed concerns.

"_He's not getting any better, is he? At least I don't think so. He doesn't talk, and when he does, he has to pause to breathe or cough. Something's wrong, Sarah. You need to get him to a competent physician." Carina was genuinely concerned and that touched Sarah._

"_What do you thing, Casey? Is he not improving? His mood sucks but that's to be expected according to the doctors."_

"_Beckman's concerned. She's talking about pulling him in for a complete workup. He runs the dailies but we've been relieved of any taskings and I know she's getting pressure to activate the team."_

"_Casey, that's crazy. He can't pull a mission. Not unless it's to infiltrate a nursing home. He's just not ready. And I don't trust Beckman. I'm afraid a 'full workup' is Beckman for 'detention facility'_. _Face it, he's pretty useless now." _

Sarah had had no idea that Chuck had been standing in the kitchen getting a cup of coffee and heard every word said on the deck.

She got into bed beside him and snuggled against him. She loved this time with him.

"Chuck, why don't we drive into town and try that Thai restaurant Carina raves about? We've been cooped up here for a while and I know you're getting cabin fever. Maybe a night out will do us both some good? We can ask the Casey's to come along if you want?"

He swings his legs out of bed and stands up. The look he gives Sarah breaks her heart.

"Nah. Why don't the three of you go? You all need to get out. And Sarah, that way you and Carina and Casey won't have to go out on the deck in the chilly evening to discuss how useless I am. Or you can drop me off on the way at a nursing home or at the airport and I'll catch a flight to Moab."

He is practically yelling by the end of his rant and only the fact that he runs out of breath and starts his hacking cough stops him. He starts getting dressed but he has no idea what he's going to do. He just knows that he can't stay here anymore.

"Chuck, sweetheart, you don't understand. We didn't mean it that way. We're all concerned because you don't seem to be getting any better. Baby, you aren't mission-ready, you know that. And you're horribly depressed. We all want the best for you. Please, come back to bed and…"

"And what, Agent Walker? Breathe deeply? I can't even kiss you without running out of air, damn it. I _am_ useless. A cell is preferable to this gilded cage I'm trapped in. I should have just given in and let go in the hospital.

Sarah snaps and grabs him and throws him on the bed and straddles him drawing back her hand when he says quietly, "going to hit me again, Sarah? Go ahead"

Her world crashes down around her and she hugs him to her as tightly as she can and screams in rage and frustration and then starts sobbing uncontrollably. He can barely understand her but she's telling him she knows how he feels, she knows because she felt the same way trapped in a wheelchair. He consoles her, rubs small circles across her back and lets her cry herself out.

After what seems like hours she stops, sniffles, and sits up, never taking her eyes from his.

"OK. Give me six weeks, Chuck. If you're not any better in six weeks you won't be getting better at all. I understand, sweetheart, I truly do. If you're not better, we'll end it. I won't live in this world without you so we'll go together. We'll use pills and we'll die in this bed together. I know how you feel. I won't make you live that way. Pills, together, this bed. Agreed?"

He caresses her cheek but she pulls away. "Agreed, Chuck? Six weeks. Agreed?"

He nods and then says, "Six weeks. I promise to work hard for six weeks but if there's no improvement, if I'm still useless, then yeah, pills, together, this bed."


	34. When Worlds Collide The End of The Game

TheGame31

_**T/N: I found it. This is the last one. It's been interesting. Nik.**_"I've lost my appetite. I'm going for another run. I have a physical therapy program to plan and I want to get a specialist to examine you. Once that's done, the clock starts counting down. Go back to sleep, Chuck. I'm sorry I was going to hit you. I'm afraid of dying, sweetheart, but I'm terrified of living without you."

* * *

Sarah leaves the room, walks quickly downstairs and slams the door.

She walks across the lane and bangs on the Casey's door. Carina answers, takes one look at her and steps aside and waves her in.

"He heard what was said last night out on the deck. He heard my big mouth saying he was useless. He wants to leave and go to Moab. I think I calmed him down but I made him a deal and a promise. If he's not better in six weeks, we'll end our lives together. I know how hopeless he feels. I felt that way until he found me and saved me. I was going to use pills. We'll use pills. I don't want him living less of a life than he wants."

"So why tell us?" Carina is horrified. Suicide is not something she personally approves of in most cases.

"I need your help. Six weeks of hard work. But first I'm taking my fiancé to another doctor for a second opinion. I – I – don't want to die but I can't live without him and I won't have him suffer like this. He's out of breath after walking five feet. He has coughing spells. You know that. I'm hoping there's something else wrong with him, something easy to fix."

Casey has been listening dispassionately and finally voices his opinion. "You'll need help with his physical regimen. We'll help you with that all we can. But I will not be a party to suicide. You are both young and have full lives ahead of you. Carina and I will be with you until then. At that time we'll request reassignment or just personal leave time."

"Thanks, guys. I'm glad I can count on you."

* * *

**Mobile Baptist Hospital  
Mobile, AL  
Monday**

Sarah and Chuck sit outside the office of one of the surgeons who operated on Chuck. Dr. Phillips comes out to greet them, looks at Chuck and then ushers them into his office. He excuses himself and places a call to a colleague.

Twenty minutes later Chuck has been admitted and is scheduled for x-rays, CT scan and a lung tissue biopsy. Sarah is alarmed at the radical change in the doctor's demeanor but he assures her that he only wants to eliminate the obvious possible causes before undertaking more invasive procedures.

* * *

Sarah is in a panic and Chuck can't calm her down. In desperation he calls Carina and hands Sarah the phone.

"Carina, they're talking about cutting open his lungs and taking tissue samples! My God, what did they do to him here? They had him laid open and surely they would have found anything then, right? Well, Carina?"

"Sarah, calm down. You're probably freaking Chuck out. I'll be down in an hour and sit with you. What do you need from the house?"

Chuck takes the phone from her hand and dials Beckman. He's been dreading this call but figures if it comes from him she's less likely to do a Sarah and freak out.

"Beckman, secure."

"Carmichael, secure. I'm in the hospital, General, getting ready to hack up lung in the name of the greater good. Walker is with me, of course, and Casey is on her way. The doctor took one look at me and admitted me. So, hold off on Moab, General. I might just save you the avgas."

He hangs up the phone and grins at Sarah. "Freedom's just another word for 'nothing left to lose'."

"Chuck, please, not Janice. That's cruel."

"So, Sarah, I was thinking. If I can beat this stuff, how about we buy a condo in Destin or Panama City? It would be a great investment and you and Ellie could tan and talk during one of their 'time share' vacations. What do you think?"

She is thrilled. This is the most positive he's been since he came home from the hospital.

"Yeah, that's a great idea. Casey and Carina can use it when we're too busy or don't want to and Devon and Ellie can 'visit'. Wonderful idea, Sweetheart."

"And we can get married there without any prying eyes. Will you marry me, Sarah?"

"Not until you're healthy and I'm sure I want to." She had a twinkle in her eye that told him she wanted to play.

"Well, I guess I could talk to Casey. Make some sort of arrangements for Carina to scratch my itches. We _are _technically partners. So let me know what you decide. I'll hold off on the condo until I know for sure."

"If you weren't already in the hospital I'd put you in one for that remark."

* * *

The doctor walks in with a nurse and a tray full of medical devices that make both Chuck and Sarah pale. The nurse starts preparing an injection and Chuck starts planning his great escape. Even at 32 he's still leery of needles.

"Mr. Carmichael, we're going to give you something to make you sleep for a bit and while you're asleep I'm going to take a look at your lungs through this device. You won't feel a thing and if I do see something that doesn't belong I'll snip off a piece for the lab. Shouldn't take more than 20 minutes. Your wife can grab a cup of coffee and a piece of pie and when she's through you'll be awake and ready for the lab results. Your biopsy has top priority here. We'll have the results before the hour is up."

Sarah takes the hint, squeezes his hand and kisses him as hard and as fiercely as she can in the few seconds they have and then leaves the room.

She runs into Carina getting off the elevator as she waits to get on.

"They're doing a something or other with a tube in his lungs and they'll biopsy anything strange. I'm supposed to get pie and coffee and then return. They'll have the biopsy results back within an hour."

"God, poor Chuck. He must be scared to death."

"Not really. He asked what I thought about buying a condo and then we could all use it. In Destin or Panama Beach. Then he asked me to marry him if he can beat this thing. Ain't that the damnedest thing?"

"He seems a little more upbeat from what you're saying. Are you going to?"

"I don't know. I told him I'd think about it and he said he could always talk to Casey about you. He said 'technically you and he were partners."

Carina thought about it and then blushed. "No. I promised you I wouldn't. But if you don't marry him you're the world's dumbest dumb blonde, Sarah."

* * *

**Two hours later.**

"Histoplasmosis, Mrs. Carmichael. Your husband has Histoplasmosis. It's a fungal infection he could have picked up anywhere and just carried the spores around in his lungs until the right combination of events and then _**WHAMO!**_, it struck."

Both Sarah and Carina jumped and Carina let out a little 'eek' when the doctor slammed his hand down on the tray table. Chuck was still dozing from the injection.

"Is it treatable? Can it be cured? Is it fatal?" Sarah was on the verge of tears.

"Yep. I'll put him on some antibiotics and he'll be running and jumping and breathing normally within two weeks. If he hadn't been shot this never would have happened. His immune system took a whack and it took advantage of the compromised lungs being vented and just grew like kudzu."

"Does he have to stay here for treatment?"

"Whatever for? He takes a pill 4 times a day and _**WHAMO!**_, it's dead in 2 weeks. Why on earth can't he take the pill at home? Speaking of which, get his ass out of here as soon as he can walk. We really need the bed space for sick people."

The doctor winks at Carina and hands her his card and leaves. Sarah snatches the card from her and flips it over. _'Your lungs could use an expert examination – call me'._

"Here. I think the two of you have much in common, C.C."

Carina takes the card, flips it over, blushes then smiles and starts to leave but stops. "Y'know, I love Johnny to death but sometimes I miss the freedom…"

**Carmichael Residence  
****Evangeline Oaks Gated Community  
****Fairhope, AL Two weeks later**

"Damn it, Chuck. No." She glares at her fiance.

"Sarah, you're being foolish about this. Seriously."

"Chuck, I will _not_ finish the game. I will _not_ tell you why and that's final. Please do not ask me again. I'm not doing it and that's final."

"Fine. I'll finish the damned thing for you and you'll lose to Carina because I did it but you'll…"

"No. I'll smash the damned laptop first. I don't want to finish the game. I don't _want_ to know how it ends. You sent it in before we got back together. It can't have a happy ending, not _my_ happy ending. So, no, I will not finish the stupid game. Let Carina win. I – Do – Not – Care!"

"Sarah, please. Please finish the game. For me. For us. Please?"

"No. Nein. Nyet. Non. Nope."

"You're being childish, Sarah. It means the world. Please?"

"Absolutely not. That's my final answer and I will not listen to another word from you about it." She puts her hands over her ears and starts chanting La-la-la-la-la-la in a very loud voice.

Chuck has had enough. She's so damned….

He storms out the door and across the lane to the Casey's. He pounds on the door and Casey opens it and ushers him in. "There's beer in the 'fridge' and Carina's trying to figure out the last scenario. When she finishes the damned game I'm going to throw it out. I hate you, Chuck. You've created an obsessive monster. First you challenge her, then you don't tell her it's two games in one then you ignore her and Sarah and they're both turning into game junkies. You owe me, Bartowski!"

"Carmichael. Bartowski's dead. Quit slipping up, Casey. It could get someone hurt."

"Fine. But now that your pulmonary crotch rot is cured, we're going to be tasked. You fly up to FT Meade tomorrow morning and the rest of us will prep for the mission. Once your head is filled with nonsense again we're back in the game."

"Sarah won't finish the damned game. Says it's not her happy ending. Jesus, when did she get so damned stupid and stubborn?"

"Pot, meet Kettle. Honestly, Chuck, if two people were ever each other's 'other half' it's you and Walker. Now, go over there, treat her right, remind her you catch the chopper for Mobile Naval Air Station at 0600 and boff her brains out. That's my advice. That was once yours, remember? Vegas?"

"Fine. I'll see you in 3 days. Don't let anything happen to her while I'm gone and if…if Beckman's playing me, remember Odessa."

"Chuck, damn it, stow the paranoia away. You're the main man now. Not going to happen. 2.4 is slow and unreliable. You are fast and reasonably accurate." He says the last with a smile. Carmichael has always been scary accurate.

**Carmichael Residence**

"Sarah, where are you?" He walks through the living room and into the kitchen. The laptop is turned off and she's locked up for the night.

He walks upstairs, enjoying being able to, and finds her sitting in bed, reading a report that he's left on the nightstand.

"Sarah, come with me." He takes her by the hand and leads her into the bathroom. He begins to fill the tub with water and then strips off his clothes and slowly begins taking off hers. First the nightshirt goes on the floor. Next the sleep bra and then the panties. He picks her up and steps into the tub and sits down with her on his lap.

She starts to say something but he silences her with a kiss, sucking at her lip and rubbing his tongue across it. She puts her arms around his neck and he breaks the kiss and twists her around so that she is lying on him, his front to her back. He turns off the water and takes the body wash and slowly covers her arms, shoulders and breasts with the wash. He cups her breast and rubs his thumb over her nipples and watches them tighten and smiles as she gasps.

"Chuck…"

"Shhh."

He rinses her off and then turns his attention to her legs. He soaps each one and rubs gently and moves up to the thigh and pays homage to her surgical scars. He's not ashamed of them. They do not diminish her beauty. The contrast enhances it. She moans when he rubs her mons and belly and then giggles when he tongues her ear.

"You're clean enough for my purposes." He drains the tub and dries her, patting all the parts he plans on plundering purposefully. He scoops her up and carries her to the bed and drops her on the covers.

"You can run a mile. Your hip and legs are healthy. We made each other a promise. Now keep it. Finish the goddamn game, Sarah!" Chuck grabs a pair of sweats and heads for the new Castle unit. He feels like killing some targets. He is so turned on and she is so damned stubborn.

She is shocked out of her sexual haze at his words. "Call me on my cell when you've finished the game, Sarah. Take as long as you need. But finish it and then call and tell me my secret."

She hears the front door slam and is torn between crying and running after him with her knife.

"_He is so damned arrogant and demanding. He won't consider my feelings at all. 'Finish the game, Sarah'."_ She could scream in frustration. She lies there for 10 minutes before reaching a decision. _Fine. I'll finish his damned game and then I'll leave him. Yeah. I'll teach that arrogant, willful, deceiving, dedicated, adoring and loving man a lesson. And then I'll cover him with Hershey's and have my way with him. We'll see if he can remember his own name when I'm done with him. And if I'm disappointed in his damned 'happy ending' I'll ruin his. Bastard. If only I didn't love him so damned much…_

An hour later she sits at the kitchen table staring at the computer screen, tears running down her face and snot collecting on her upper lip. She's finished the game. After the usual fanfare and score announcement as the final scene ends, the screen turns black and a question appears in stark white letters: "It wasn't a necklace after all. It wasn't a ring either. What was my token of true love?"

She inputs the answer: Bracelet.

The screen turned white and black letters spelled out the next question: "What kind of car do you drive?"

She inputs 'Porsche' and the screen turns midnight blue.

The next question was in white: Who is the Captain?

She inputs 'Devon' but it's wrong.

She stops and thinks and re-enters 'Awesome' and the screen fades and a picture appears slowly, almost a pixel at a time but she's recognized it from a file Beckman had given her to review.

It's of two people so in love with each other that they seem to glow. Then words appear that almost end her:

_Two people separated by time and circumstance.  
__Two hearts beating as one.  
__I will always love my Sarah. _

* * *

Carina thumbs the lock plate and walks in huffing in anger.

"Walker, that sonofabitch you love is going to die. I hate him. His ending sucks. Walker, where is…Sarah, what's wrong? Where's Chuck?"

She walks over and stands behind Sarah and looks at the screen and gasps…

"Sarah, he submitted his game after Bucharest, after Mira died and after you sent him back the bracelet FedEx. He had no reason to put this in the game except one: He hoped you'd play it someday and win and then you'd know and maybe, just maybe, you'd come back to him. He has faith in you. And there's so much love there. Don't you see it in your faces?"

Sarah reaches over and grabs her cell phone and speed dials a number.

"Hey. I won. You won. We won. Let's buy the condo. Let's get married. But first, come home and make love to me until I can't remember my name, Chuck. Please?"

"I'm leaving, Walker. I can't believe you won him _and_ the stupid game. The ending sucks, y'know? I should have won, not you. Well, remember he's got to be on the chopper by 6am."

* * *

**NSA Chopper Pad  
****Evangeline Oaks Gated Community  
****Fairhope, AL 5:45am**

"You didn't have to walk me to the pad, honey. I'm sure I wouldn't get lost. And besides, you should be sleeping. Neither of us got much sleep last night."

"No. I wanted to spend as much time with you as possible. Chuck, that game, all that effort, all the time spent going back and forth with me, was it worth it?"

"Oh, yeah. Definitely. Now, go home. Get some sleep. When I come back, we'll try to fulfill your fantasy. I've fulfilled mine for a lifetime."

"You might want to avoid Carina for a few days. She's upset with the game ending. She thinks it 'sucks' but after she saw your secret I think she'll cut you some slack. Now, kiss me and get your scrawny butt on the bird, Bartowski. I'm going to go for a run. I have to keep limber. And I want to…" she stands on tiptoes and whispers something in his ear. He turns beet red and she laughs and swats him on the butt and walks slowly away.

She's sore and aching in all the right places.

A/N: Thanks to my Nik for the sappy crap with the photo. She whispers the most interesting crap in my ear at the most inconvenient times. That's all for APR.


End file.
